POEMS AND DISCOURSES Occasionally Written  
By John Norris, Fellow of All-Souls-Colledge in Oxford.  
— Nec vos dulcissima Mundi  
Nomina, vos Musae, libertas, otia, libri,  
Vos Horti Sylvaeque anima remanente relinquam.  
LONDON, Printed by J. Harefinch, for James Norris, at the Kings-Arms without Temple-Bar. MDCLXXXIV.   

To the excellently accomplished Lady, Madam Anne Strickland, Daughter to the Honourable Sir Thomas Strickland, of Boynton in York-shire, Baronet.  
MADAM,  
I Could have satisfied myself with the humble Content of a lower Patronage, were I not more ambitious of giving some Testimony of that great Service which I owe You, than of deriving Honour upon myself from the glory of your Protection.  
But tho Ambition be not my direct Aim, yet I find that the greatness of your Quality and the excellency of your Personal Accomplishments will render it suspicious that in this Dedication I rather intend Honour to my self, than Service to You, so that my Devotion will appear doubtful and obscure, and my Incense, in too literal a sense, ascend in a Cloud.  
But, Madam, let not the happy necessity which I lie under of advantaging my own Credit while I serve you, prejudice the sincerity of my Intentions, or make my officiousness to be thought Mercenary. 'tis the constant Fate of all the Votaries of Greatness to be engaged in such a Necessity, and it happens to be so as well in Religion as in Civil Address. Thus the Altar, which is intended merely for an Instrument of Devotion and Religious Service, is itself made awful and Sacred by the Inscription which it wears, and becomes honourable by the Livery of Heaven.  
Madam, I wish you could find as many things in this Oblation which would deserve your Patronage, as you will that will need it. However, I hope your goodness will pardon what your judgement cannot approve. Here is one Composition which has had the Fortune to please so well, that tis encouraged to make a second Appearance upon the Stage. Whether the rest are born under the same lucky Planet I know not; but your acceptance( Madam) will calculate their Nativity, for thence I shall take the measures of my Success. I value your single approbation more than the Applause of a Theatre, but if I miss of both, yet I hope you will give me leave to promise myself a Pardon for the Presumption of this Address, and to assume to myself the Honourable Title of  
( Madam) Your most humble and devoted Servant J. N.   

The Passion of our B. Saviour represented in a Pindarique Ode.  
— Quis talia fando  
Temperet a Lacrymis?—  

I.  
SAY bold Licentious Muse,  
What Noble Subject wilt thou choose,  
Of what great Hero, of what mighty thing,  
Wilt thou in boundless numbers sing?  
Sing the unfathom'd Depths of Love,  
( For who the Wonders done by Love can tell,  
By Love, which is itself all Miracle?)  
Here in vast endless Circles mayst thou rove,  
And like the traveling Planet of the day  
In an Orb unbounded stray.  
Sing the great Miracle of Love Divine,  
Great be thy Genius, sparkling every Line,  
Love's greatest Mystery rehearse,  
Greater then that  
Which on the teeming Chaos brooding sate,  
And hatched, with kindly heat, the Universe.  
How God in Mercy choose to bleed, and die  
To rescue Man from Misery,  
Man, not his Creature only, but his Enemy.   

II.  
Lo, in Gethsemane, I see him prostrate lie,  
pressed with the weight of his great Agony.  
The common sluices of the Eyes  
To vent his mighty Passion won't suffice,  
His tortured Body weeps all-o're,  
And out of every poor  
Buds forth a precious Gem of Purple Gore.  
How strange the Power of afflictions rod  
When in the Hand of an incensed God!  
Like the commanding Wand  
In Moses Hand  
It works a Miracle, and turns the Flood  
Of Tears into a Sea of Blood.  
See with what Pomp Sorrow does now appear!  
How proud She is of being seated here!  
She never wore  
So rich a die before.  
Long was he willing to decline  
Th' Encounter of the Wrath Divine.  
Thrice he sent for his Release  
Pathetic Embassies of Peace,  
At length his Courage overcame his Doubt,  
resolved he was, and so the bloody flag hung out.   

III.  
And now the Tragic Scene's displai'd,  
Where drawn in full Battalia are laid  
Before his Eyes  
That numerous Host of Miseries  
He must withstand, that Map of Woe  
Which he must undergo.  
That heavy winepress which must by him be trod,  
The whole Artillery of God.  
He saw that Face whose very Sight  
cheers Angels with its Beatific Light,  
Contracted now into a dreadful frown,  
All clothed with Thunder, big with death  
And Showers of hot burning Wrath,  
Which shortly must be poured down.  
He saw a black and dismal Scroll  
Of Sins past, present, and to come,  
With their intolerable Doom  
Which would the more oppress his spotless Soul;  
As th' Elements are weighty proved  
When from their Native Station they're removed.  
He saw the foul Ingratitude of those  
Who would the Labours of his Love oppose,  
And reap no benefit by all his Agonys.  
He saw all this,  
And as he saw to Waver he began,  
And almost to repent of his great Love for Man.   

IV.  
When lo, a heavenly Form all bright and fair,  
Swister then Thought shot through th' enlight'ned Air.  
He who sat next th' imperial Throne,  
And red the councils of the Great Three-One,  
Who in Eternity's mysterious Glass  
Saw both what was, what is, and what must come to pass;  
He came with Reverence profound,  
And raised his prostrate Maker from the Ground;  
Wiped off the bloody Sweat  
With which his Face and Garments too were wet,  
And comforted his dark benighted Mind  
With sovereign Cordials of Light refined.  
This done, in soft addresses he began  
To fortify his kind Designs for Man,  
Unseal'd to him the Book of Gods Decree:  
And shew'd him what must be,  
alleged the Truth of Prophecies,  
Types, Figures, and Mysteries,  
How needful it was to supply  
With human Race the ruins of the sky.  
How this would new accession bring  
To the celestial choir,  
And how withall it would inspire  
New Matter for the Praise of the great King.  
How he should see the travail of his Soul, and bless  
Those Sufferings which had so good Success.  
How great the Triumphs of his Victory,  
How glorious his Ascent would be,  
What weighty Bliss in Heaven he should obtain  
By a few Hours of Pain,  
Where to Eternal Ages he should Reign.  
He spake, confirmed in mind the Champion stood,  
A Spirit divine  
Through the thick Veil of Flesh did shine,  
All over Powerful he was, all over Good.  
pleased with his successful Flight,  
The Officious Angel posts away  
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day,  
Departing in a tract of Light.  
In hast for News the heavenly People ran,  
And joyed to hear the hopeful State of Man.   

V.  
And now that strange prodigious hour,  
When God must subject be to human Power,  
That Hour is come,  
The unetring Clock of Fate has struck,  
'twas heard below down to Hell's lowest Room,  
And straight th'infernal Powers th' appointed signal took.  
Open the Scene my Muse, and see  
Wonders of Impudence and villainy;  
How wicked Mercenary hands  
Dare to invade him whom they should adore,  
With Swords& Staves encompassed round he stands,  
Who knew no other Guards but those of Heaven before.  
Once with his powerful breath he did repel  
The rude assaults of Hell.  
A ray of his Divinity  
Shot forth with that bold Answer, I am He,  
They reel and stagger, and fall to the Ground,  
For God was in the Sound.  
The Voice of God was once again  
Walking in the Garden heard,  
And once again was by the guilty Hearers feared;  
Trembling seized every joint, and chillness every Vein.  
This little Victory he won,  
Shew'd what he could have done.  
But he to whom as chief was given  
The whole Militia of Heaven,  
That Mighty He  
Declines all Guards for his defence  
But that of his inseparable Incocence;  
And quietly gives up his Liberty.  
He's seized on by the Military bands,  
With Cords they bind his sacred hands,  
But ah! how weak, what nothings would they prove,  
Were he not held by stronger ones of Love.   

VI.  
Once more, my wearied Muse, thy Pinions try,  
And reach the top of Calvary.  
A steep Ascent: But most to him who bore  
The burden of a across this way before.  
( The across ascends, there's something in it sure  
That Moral is and mystical,  
No Heights of Fortune are from thee secure,  
Afflictions sometimes Climb, as well as fall)  
Here breath a while, and view  
The dolefull'st Picture Sorrow ever drew,  
The Lord of Life, Heavens darling Son,  
The Great, th' Almighty one,  
With out-stretch'd Arms, nailed to a cursed three,  
crowned with sharp Thorns, covered with Infamy;  
He who before  
So many Miracles had done,  
The Lives of others to restore,  
Does with a greater, lose his own.  
Full three long hours his tender body did sustain  
Most exquisite and poignant pain.  
So long the sympathising Sun his light withdrew,  
And wondered how the Stars their dying Lord could.   

VII.  
This strange defect of light  
Does all the Sages in Astronomy affright  
With fears of an Eternal Night.  
Th' Intelligences in their Courses stray,  
And Travellers below mistake their way,  
Wond'ring to be benighted in the midst of Day.  
Each mind is seized with Horror and Despair,  
And more o'erspread with darkness than the air.  
Fear on, 'tis wondrous all and new,  
'tis what past Ages never knew.  
Fear on, but yet you'll find  
The great Eclipse is still behind.  
The lustre of the face Divine  
Does on the Mighty Sufferer no longer shine.  
God hides his Glories from his sight  
With a thick screen made of Hell's grossest night.  
Close-wrought it was, and Solid all,  
Compacted and Substantial,  
Impenetrable to the Beatifick light  
Without Complaint he bore  
The tortures he endured before;  
But now no longer able to contain  
Under the great Hyperbole of pain,  
He mourns, and with a strong pathetic cry,  
Laments the sad Desertion of the deity.  
Here stop my Muse, stop and admire,  
The Breather of all Life does now expire;  
His Milder Father Summons him away,  
His Breath obediently he does resign;  
Angels to paradise his Soul convey,  
And Calm the relics of his grief with Hymns divine.   

Annotations.  
THis Ode( if I mistake not) carries all throughout the true Genius and Spirit of Pindarique Poetry; which is the highest and most magnificent kind of writing in Verse, and consequently fit only for great and noble Subjects, such as are as boundless as its own Numbers: The nature of which is to be loose and free, and not to keep one settled place, but sometimes like a gentle stream to glide along peaceably within its own Channel, and sometimes, like an impetuous Torrent, to roll on extravagantly, and carry all before it. Agreeable to that description of Horace: 
Nunc place delabentis Hetruscum  
In mere, nunc lapides adesos  
Stirpesque raptas& pecus& domos  
Volventis una non sine montium,  
Clamore vincinaeque Sylvae.  And this may serve to explain the Introduction of the Poem: And hatched with kindly heat the Universe. Love in the gentle Theology, is made the most ancient of the Gods, and the Sire of all things. {αβγδ}, says Plutarch. And it is described by Simmias Rhodius, in a pair of Wings, which suited well with the Symbolical representation of the Chaos by an Egg, which was brooded and hatched under these Wings of Love. This whole matter is rarely well, and at large expressed by Aristophanes in Avibus. The plain and undisguised meaning of it is this, That the Creation of the World was the effect of the Divine Love, God having no other end in it besides the Communication of his own Happiness. 
As th' Elements are weighty proved,  
When from their Native Station they're removed.  This is according to the Aristotelean Hypothesis, that the Elements are not heavy in their own places, which whether it be true or no, I shall not now dispute. However, it serves for an Illustration, which is sufficient for my present purpose.  He saw the foul Ingratitude of those, &c. 
The bitter Ingredients of our Lord's Cup mentioned hitherto, were taken from things relating to his own personal concern. But this last motive of his Sorrow proceeds wholly on the behalf of others, of whose final impenitence he is supposed to have a foresight. This I take to be a good and proper insinuation of the excellency of our Blessed Lord's temper, his exceeding great Love and Philanthropy, when among the other Ingredients of his Passion this is supposed to be one, that there would be some, who, by their own default, would receive no benefit from it. Unseal'd to him the Book of God's decree, &c. Whether the Angel used these topics of Consolation or no, is a thing as indifferent to my purpose, as 'tis uncertain. In the Scripture it is only said in general, that there appeared an Angel from Heaven strengthening him. However, these Arguments are such as are probable and pertinent, and that's sufficient. 
In hast for news the heavenly people ran,  
And joyed to hear the hopeful state of man.  It is highly reasonable to believe that those blessed and excellent Spirits, who out of their compassionate love and concern for mankind, ushered in the news of our Saviour's Nativity with Anthems of Praise and Thanksgiving; and are said likewise to rejoice at the Conversion of a Sinner, were also mightily transported with joy, when they understood that our Saviour, notwithstanding the reluctancy of innocent Nature, was at length fully resolved to undertake the Price of our Redemption. 
Full three long hours his Tender Body did sustain  
Most exquisite and poignant pain.  It is supposed by the Ancient Fathers, that the Sufferings which our B. Saviour underwent in his Body, were more afflictive to him than the same would have been to another man, upon the account of the excellency and quickness of his sense of feeling: And this opinion I take to be as reasonable, as 'tis pious. For since, according to the Principles of Philosophy, the sense of feeling arises from the proportion of the first Qualities, it follows, that the better the complexion or temperament of any man is, the better his Feeling must needs be. Now 'tis very reasonable to believe, that that man who was to be substantially united to the God-head, and who was begotten by the miraculous overshadowings of the holy Spirit, should have a Body endowed with the best Complexion, and most noble Harmony of Qualities that could be, that so it might be a suitable Organ for his excellent Soul. And if so, then it follows that the flesh of our Lord's Body was so soft and tender, and his feeling so exquisitely quick and sensible, as never any man's was before: And consequently the severe usages which he underwent, not only at his Passion, but throughout his whole Life, must needs be in a Singular manner afflictive to him. And hence appears the vanity of their opinion, who are little or nothing affencted with the consideration of our Lords Passion, because they think it was made light to him, by reason of his union with the God-head. 'twas easy for him( some inconsiderate Persons are ready to say) to suffer this or this, for he was God, and not mere man, as we are. True, he was so, but his being God did no way lessen the punishment he underwent as man, but only supported him in his existence under it, in the same manner as God is supposed, by an act of his Almighty Power, to preserve the bodies of the damned, incorruptible among the everlasting burnings. But this I think is no kindness to them. Neither did the Society of the Divine Nature any more diminish the Sufferings of our dearest Lord; nay, in one respect it proved an accidental aggravation to them, because upon the account of this Noble Union he had given him a Body of a most admirable Complexion and Harmonious Temperature, and consequently of a Flesh exceeding tender, and most exquisitely perceptive of the least impressions. 
So long the sympathising Sun his light withdrew,  
And wondered how the Stars their dying Lord could view.  The Eclipse which accompanied the Passion of our Saviour was so remarkable and miraculous, that 'twas taken notice of by many of the gentle Historians: And moreover, Dionysius Areopagita, then a Professor of Philosophy at Heliopolis in Egypt, affirms in an Epistle to Policarp, that he, with Apollophanes, another Philosopher of great note, saw it, and considered it with a great deal of admiration. There are three things which made this Eclipse so very remarkable, the time of its Appearance, the time of its Duration, and the Degree of it. 1. For the time of its Appearance, it was at full Moon, when the Moon was not in Conjunction with, but in opposition to the Sun. And this appears not only from the testimony of Dionysius, who affirms that he saw it at that time, but also from the time of our Lord's Passion, which, according to the relation of the Evangelist, was at the Celebration of the Passeover. Now the Jews were bound to celebrate the Paschal Solemnity always at full Moon, as is to be seen in the twelfth of Exodus. This was no time therefore for a Natural Eclipse, because 'twas impossible that the Moon should then interpose betwixt us and the Sun. 2. For the time of its Duration, it was full three hours, which is another evidence that this was no Natural Eclipse: For the Natural Eclipse of the Sun can never last so long, both because of the great disproportion between the Suns Magnitude, and that of the Moon, and because of the swift motion of the latter. 3. For the degree of it, it was a total Eclipse. The Sun was so darkened, that( as Historians report, who writ of that Eclipse) the Stars appeared. And this is another Argument that it was no Natural Phoenomenon, it being impossible that the Body of the Moon, which is so infinitely less than that of the Sun, should totally eclipse it. Now all these three Remarkables are comprised in the compass of these two Verses. For in that it is said that the Sun withdrew his light, it is intimated that the light of the Sun was not intercepted by the ordinary conjunction of the Moon, but that by an Extraordinary Commission from the God of Nature, the Sun rein'd in his light, and suspended the emission of his Beams. And this denotes the time of its appearance,( viz.) when the Moon was not in Conjunction. The time of its duration is implied by the words, So long. And lastly, the Degree of it is implied in the last Verse, And wondered how the Stars their dying Lord could view. Where the appearance of the Stars is not directly expressed, but only insinuated and couched, for the more elegancy of the thought. And calm the relics of his grief with Hymns divine. It is here supposed that the Passion of our Saviour was now over, and his Father's wrath wholly appeased. For I can by no means approve the opinion of those who fancy that our Saviour, in the interim betwixt his Death and Resurrection, descended locally into Hell, there to suffer the torments of the damned. His own words upon the across, It is finished; His promise to the penitent Thief, that he should be with him that day in paradise, and his last resignation of his Spirit into the hands of his Father, do all of them apparently contradict it. But yet, though the bitter Cup was wholly drank off upon the across, 'tis natural to imagine some little relish of it to remain behind for a time. Though all his sufferings and penal inflictions were ended before his death, yet, I suppose( and I think very naturally) some little discomposures of mind, remaining like the after-droppings of a shower, which his Soul could not immediately shake off, upon her release from the Body. In allusion to that of Virgil, 
Inter quas Phaenissa recens à vulnere Dido  
Errabat Sylva in Magna—  Where the Poet fancies the Ghost of Dido being newly released from the pains of Love, could not presently forget her shady walks and melancholy retirements. Now these Remains of Sorrow and after-disturbances of mind which cleaved to the Soul of the Holy Jesus, I suppose here to be allayed by the music of Angels in his passage to paradise.    

An Hymn upon the Transfiguration.  

I.  
HAil King of Glory, clad in Robes of Light,  
Out-shining all we here call bright:  
Hail Light's divinest Galaxy,  
Hail Express Image of the Deity.  
Could now thy Amorous Spouse thy Beauties view,  
How would her wounds all bleed anew:  
Lovely thou art all o'er and bright,  
Thou Israel's Glory, and thou Gentile's Light.   

II.  
But whence this brightness, whence this sudden day?  
Who did thee thus with light array?  
Did thy Divinity dispense  
T' its Consort a more liberal influence?  
Or did some Curious angels chemic Art  
The Spirits of purest light impart,  
Drawn from the Native Spring of day,  
And wrought into an Organized ray?   

III.  
howe'er twas done, 'tis Glorious and Divine,  
Thou dost with radiant wonders shine.  
The Sun with his bright Company,  
Are all gross Meteors if compared to thee.  
Thou art the fountain whence their Light does flow,  
But to thy will thine own dost owe.  
For( as at first) thou didst but say,  
Let there be light, and straight sprung forth this wondrous day.   

IV.  
Let now the Eastern Princes come and bring  
Their Tributary Offering.  
There needs no Star to guide their flight,  
They'll find thee now, great King, by thine own light.  
And thou, my Soul, adore, love and admire,  
And follow this bright Guide of Fire.  
Do thou thy Hymns and Praises bring,  
whilst Angels with veiled Faces, Anthems sing.    

The Parting.  

I.  
DEpart! The Sentence of the damned I hear;  
Compendious grief, and black despair.  
I now believe the Schools with ease,  
( Tho once an happy Infidel)  
That should the sense no torment seize,  
Yet Pain of Loss alone would make a Hell.   

II.  
Take all, since me of this you Gods deprive,  
'tis hardly now worth while to live.  
Nought in exchange can grateful prove,  
No Second Friendship can be found  
To match my mourning Widow'd Love;  
Eden is lost, the rest's but common ground.   

III.  
Why are the greatest Blessings sent in vain,  
Which must be lost with greater pain?  
Or why do we fond admire  
The greatest good which life can boast?  
When Fate will have the Bliss expire,  
Like Life, with painful Agonies 'tis lost.   

IV.  
How fading are the Joys we dote upon,  
Like Apparitions seen and gone:  
But those which soonest take their flight,  
Are the most exquisite and strong,  
Like Angels visits, short and bright;  
Mortality's too weak to bear them long.   

V.  
No pleasure certainly is so divine  
As when two Souls in Love combine:  
He has the substance of all bliss,  
To whom a virtuous Friend is given,  
So sweet harmonious Friendship is,  
Add but Eternity, you'll make it Heaven.   

VI.  
The Minutes in your conversation spent  
Were Festivals of true content.  
Here, here, an Ark of pleasing rest,  
My Soul had found that restless Dove,  
My present State methought was best,  
I envied none below, scarce those above.   

VII.  
But now the better part of me is gone,  
My Sun is set, my Turtle flown.  
Tho here and there of lesser bliss  
Some twinkling Stars give feeble light,  
Still there a mournful darkness is,  
They shine but just enough to show 'tis night.   

VIII.  
Fatal divorce! What have I done amiss,  
To bear such misery as this?  
The World yields now no real good,  
All happiness is now become  
But painted and deluding food:  
As mere a Fiction as Elysium.   

IX.  
Well then, since nothing else can please my taste,  
I'll ruminate on pleasures past.  
So when with glorious Visions blessed,  
The waking Hermit finds no theme  
That's grateful to his thoughtful breast,  
He sweetly recollects his pleasing Dream.    

To a Lady, who asked him, What Life was?  

'tis not because I breath and eat,  
'tis not because a vigorous heat  
Drives round my Blood, and does impart  
Motion to my Pulfe and Heart:  
'tis not such proofs as these can give  
Any assurance that I Live.  
No, no, to Live is to enjoy;  
What mars our bliss does Life destroy:  
The days which pass without Content,  
Are not lived properly, but spent.  
Who says the damned in Hell do Live?  
That word we to the Blessed give:  
The Sum of all whose happiness  
We by the name of Life express.  
Well then, if this account be true,  
To Live is still to Live with You.    

The third Chapter of Job Paraphrased.  

I.  
cursed, ever cursed be that unhappy day,  
When first the Suns unwelcome ray  
I saw with trembling eyes, being newly come  
From the dark Prison of the womb.  
When first to me my vital breath was lent,  
That breath which now must all in sighs be spent.   

II.  
Let not the Sun his cheering Beams display  
Upon that wretched, wretched day;  
But mourn in Sables, and all over shrowded  
His glories in a sullen cloud.  
Let light to upper Regions be confined,  
And all below as black as is my mind.   

III.  
cursed be the night which first began to lay  
The ground-work of this house of day:  
Let it not have the honour to appear  
In the Retinue of the year.  
Let all the days shun its society,  
Hate, curse, abandon it as much as I.   

IV.  
Let Melancholy call that Night her own,  
Then let her sigh, then let her groan:  
A general grief throughout all Nature spread,  
With folded arms, and drooping head.  
All Harps be still, or tuned to such a strain  
As Fiends might hear, and yet not ease their pain.   

V.  
Let neither Moon nor Stars, with borrowed light,  
chequer the blackness of that Night:  
But let a pure unquestioned darkness rear  
Her Sooty Wings all o'er the Air;  
Such as once on th' Abyss of Chaos lay,  
Not to be pierced by Stars, scarce by the edge of Day.   

VI.  
Why was there then, ah, why a passage free  
At once for life and misery?  
Why did I not uncloister'd from the Womb  
Take my next lodging in a Tomb?  
Why with such cruel tenderness and care  
Was I nursed up to Sorrow and Despair?   

VII.  
For now in sweet repose might I have lain  
Secure from any grief or pain:  
untouched with care, my Bed I should have made  
In Death's cool and refreshing shade.  
I should have slept now in a happy place,  
All calm and silent as the Empty space.   

VIII.  
There where great Emperours their heads lay down,  
tired with the burden of a Crown.  
There where the Mighty, Popular and Great,  
Are happy in a dear retreat;  
Enjoy that solid Peace which here in vain  
In Grotts and shady walks they sought t'obtain.   

IX.  
None of Hells Agents can or dare molest  
This aweful Sanctuary of rest.  
No Prisoners sighs, no groanings of the Slave,  
Disturb the quiet of the Grave.  
From toil and labour here they ever cease,  
And keep a Sabbath of sweet rest and peace.   

X.  
Why then does Heaven on Mortals Life bestow  
When 'tis thus overtax'd with woe?  
Why am I forced to live against my will,  
When all the good is lost in ill?  
My sighs flow thick, my groans sound from afar,  
Like falling waters to the traveller.    

Seraphic Love.  

I.  
'tis true, Frail Beauty, I did once resign  
To thy imperious Charms this Heart of mine:  
There didst thou undisturbed thy sceptre sway,  
And I methought was pleased t' obey.  
Thou seek'st so lovely, so divine,  
With such sweet Graces didst thou shine,  
Thou entertain'st my Amorous sense  
With such Harmonious excellence,  
That, Credulous and Silly I,  
With vain, with impious Idolatry,  
adored that Star which was to led me to the Deity.   

II.  
But now, thou soft Enchantress of the mind,  
farewell, a change, a mighty change I find;  
The Empire of my Heart thou must resign,  
For I can be no longer thine.  
A Nobler, a Diviner Guest,  
Has took possession of my Breast,  
He has, and must engross it all,  
And yet the room is still too small.  
In vain you tempt my Heart to rove,  
A fairer object now my Soul does move,  
It must be all Devotion, what before was Love.   

III.  
Through Contemplation's Optics I have seen  
Him who is Fairer than the Sons of men:  
The Source of good, the light Archetypall,  
Beauty in the Original.  
The fairest of ten thousand, He,  
Proportion all and Harmony.  
All Mortal Beauty's but a ray  
Of his bright ever-shining day;  
A little feeble twinkling Star,  
Which now the Sun's in place must disappear;  
There is but One that's Good, there is but One that's Fair.   

IV.  
To thee, thou only Fair, my Soul aspires  
With Holy Breathings, languishing desires.  
To thee m' enamoured, panting Heart does move  
By Efforts of Ecstatic Love.  
How do thy glorious streams of Light  
Refresh my intellectual sight!  
Tho broken, and strained through a screen  
Of envious Flesh that stands between!  
When shall m' imprisoned Soul be free,  
That she thy Native uncorrected Light may see,  
And gaze upon thy Beatific Face to all Eternity?    

Atlas Britannicus denuo instauratus.  

Nunc age divinum inspira mihi phoebe furorem,  
Maxima ut Angliacae pandatur gloria gentis,  
Ingenii monumentum ingens, durique laboris,  
Utque tuum celebretur opus: Tu nempe perenni  
Qui Cursu immensi Stadium Metiris Olympi,  
Unde omnes variâ perlustras lampade terras,  
Ut tabulâ exprimerent quem tu face circuis orbem  
angles Author eras. Quis enim sine Numine tantum  
Moliretur opus, Coeptum aut praestare valeret?  
Dux operis Deus est, totamque infusa per artus  
Mens agitat molem, divinâ conditus arte,  
Non nisi divino describitur Auspice Mundus.   

Fare age Calliope audacis primordia coepti,  
Quidve Deum impulerit tam immensâ involvere curâ  
Mortales animos, tantos aperire labores.  
fort Pater rerum à Summâ Saturnius arce  
Vana hominum studia:& curas speculatus inanes,  
Quamque levi insurgant Mortalia pectora fastu,  
Risit,& ad Socios Converso lumine Divos,  
Terricolisne videtis( ait) quam caeca voluptas  
Decipere, atque viam palantis quaerere vitae?  
Imperio ut certant Reges, mundique quietem  
mart agitant, Modicaque armis tellure potiti  
cord tument, capita alta gerunt, titulisque superbi  
Se rerum Dominos credunt Mundique Monarchas  
Adque orbis metas regni procedere fines!  
Cernite quantillo rudis iste superbiat Haeres.  
Regali incedens passu; quam turget avito  
Stemmate,& Augusto quantum sibi plaudit agello.  
Tanquam aliquid Magnum in Nostro possederit orb,  
Nescius in quantum pateant terrestria Molem,  
Ignarus quantilla mei pars cognita Mundi.  
Quinetiam Merito O superi, fraudamur honore,  
Et Laudum pars magna perit, dum Climata tanta  
Totque latent, tractusque Maris Coelique profundi,  
Cimmeria tanquam Nebula& Caligine Mersi.  
Quare agite immensi pandatur Scena Theatri,  
Nec Mea terricolas lateant Miracula gentes.  
Unde Sciant homines quam sit sibi Curta supellex,  
Et Nostrum cumulent geminato Numen honore.   

Est locus Angliacis Fama celeberrimus oris,  
Musarum seeds, decus orbis, cura deorum,  
Quem te phoebe ferunt terris magis omnibus unum  
Post-habito Coluisse Chamo—  
Omnigenae hic florent artes, hic Sidere dextro  
Scire datur rerum Causas, Mundique recessus,  
Aereas tentare domus, animoque per omnem  
Ire globum, arcanasque omnes inquirere seeds.  
Quid si aliquos praestanti animo de Gente togata  
Queis solito melius finxerunt pectus Athenae  
Mundi hujus varios jubeam describere tractus,  
Et tabula Simulante Meos aperire Labores.  
Nulla sit ut Nostro pars terrae Incognita Mundo!  
Assensere Dii,& plausu reboavit Olympus.  
Protinus aetherea lapsus Cyllenius arce  
Bellositum nocte ingreditur, somnoque Sepultis  
Inspirat Patriam per amica insomnia Mentem  
Tollite Cuncta( inquit) coeptosque auferte labores,  
Grandius instat opus, cunctos terraeque Marisque  
Indigitare Sinus, Complectique omnia Chartis  
Quemque implevistis Fama nunc pingere Mundam.  
precipitate Moras, nec plura effatus; at Illi  
Ocyus incubuere omnes, pariterque laborem  
Sortiti, artifici designant omnia dextra.  
Fervet opus; Coelum,& terras, Camposque liquentes,  
Urbes, Montesque insignes, Fluviosque pererrant,  
Nullus iter prohibet Rubicon, spatia omnia lustrant  
Quot Sol signa tenens duodena volubilis anni.   

Ergo iter incoeptum peragant, Carolique Deique  
Auspiciis procedat opus, nec Meta labori  
Ante esto, quam defuerit quaerentibus orbis.   

At quae Magna tuas Celebrare Britannia lauds  
Musa valet, quot tu palmis, quot digna trophies,  
Quot totum tuleris Victricia Signa per orbem,  
Audacique omnes dextra deviceris oras!  
Roma triumphales circum Capitolia Currus  
Ducat,& ampla suo indicat solennia Marti  
Quum Cruor,& Mors,& longi dispendia belly  
Victrices tribuere Aquilas; Insignior angles  
Accumulatur honos, Solamque haec pulcra Britannam  
Palma Manet Gentem, Calamo quod Vicerit orbem.    

Ducis Eboracensis ad Oxonium Processio.  

DUm tristes Sacra residerent seed Camoenae,  
Et gemerent querulo Secli infortunia plectro,  
Dum Socios miscet gemitus,& murmur leni  
It plorans Helicon, luctusque reciprocat unda,  
Fama per Aonias volitat circumsona ripas,  
Ut placida aethereos mutarent seed tumultus  
Ad juga Maeonidum Coeli Statione relicta  
Adventare Deos. Adeo omnis Magna Serenae  
Pompa gravis paci est, placidaeque inimica quieti.   

Janique nova arrectas pertentant gaudia mentes  
( Semper enim gessisse ferunt Pia cord Camaenas)  
Laetitiaque micant frontes, jam floor superbit  
Terra novo, jubar emittit Sincerius aether,  
Inque magis Festiva aptantur Carmina Nervi,  
Vicinosque Helicon jam pulsat Fortius agros.   

Ruricolas etiam Nymphas, pecorisque Magistros  
Jam gregis oblitos patriis accersit ab arvis  
Ad juga Maeonidum nova fama, deosque videndi  
Ambitiosus amor. Quae tum, quae lumina vulgi!  
Qui plausus! plenis quae stabant agmina vicis!  
Terra angusta viris, Musisque angustior amnis  
Defuit,& Coelum votis,& plausibus aer.   

Tandem ubi Coelicolae ad placidum venere recessum,  
Sydereae gentis Numerosa astante Caterva,  
Summissoque humiles intrarunt Vertice portas  
Obvia Musarum processit turba, Deosque  
Sic affata una est. Reliquae siluere Sorores  
Atque audituras Volvit Fons Mollius undas.   

O quae Sidereas liquistis Numina seeds,  
Hospitiumque humile in Nostra Conquiritis aula,  
Jam Nostri Salvete Lares, Salvete Penates.  
Nos Pia turba sumus, Superumque addictior aris,  
Quumque Minaretur Coelo Titania pubes  
Atque affectarent regnum Coeleste Rebelles,  
Nos nunquam Meritis Cumulare Altaria donis  
Destitimus, justosque diis persolvere honores.  
Nec coluisse piget; Nos Vestro Numine tutae  
Alta in place sumus, trahimusque per otia vitana.  
Quinetiam hoc uno plus quam pensamur honore  
Caetera si defint, quod magna laud feremur  
Hospitio excepisse Deos. Sic fata, recessit.   

ind datum sectantur iter, Studioque Videndi  
Et Sacros adeunt latices,& amoena vireta,  
Pieridumque domus lauru Cingente Verendas,  
Foelicesque vocant pariter studioque locoque  
Maeonidas—  
Quumque Sat Aonios lustrassent Numina Colles,  
Vivite Foelices( aiunt) hac seed Camoenae.   

Vivite concords,& quam vix Purpura Novit  
Observate fidem, Sacrique à Vertice Collis  
Despicite insanas vestri sine parte pericli  
Magnatum lights,& Mundi hinc spernite pompam,   

Protinus ad superas Cesserunt Numina seeds  
Pieriisque sui rediit pax alma Recessus.    

The Retirement.  

I.  
WEll, I have thought on't, and I find  
This busy World is Non-sense all,  
I here despair to please my mind,  
Her sweetest Honey is so mixed with gull.  
Come then, I'll try how 'tis to be alone,  
Live to myself a while, and be my own.   

II.  
I've tried, and bless the happy change;  
So happy, I could almost vow  
Never from this Retreat to range,  
For sure I ne'er can be so blessed as now.  
From all th' allays of bliss I here am free,  
I pitty others, and none envy me.   

III.  
Here in this shady lonely Grove  
I sweetly think my hours away,  
Neither with Business vexed, nor Love,  
Which in the World bear such Tyrannic sway:  
No Tumults can my close Apartment find,  
Calm as those Seats above, which know no Storm nor Wind.   

IV.  
Let Plots and News embroil the State,  
Pray what's that to my Books and Me?  
Whatever be the kingdoms Fate,  
Here I am sure t' enjoy a Monarchy.  
Lord of myself, accountable to none,  
Like the first Man in paradise, alone.   

V.  
While the Ambitious vainly sue,  
And of the partial Stars complain,  
I stand upon the Shore and view  
The mighty Labours of the distant Main.  
I 'm flushed with silent joy, and smile to see  
The Shafts of Fortune still drop short of me.   

VI.  
Th' uneasy Pageantry of State,  
And all the plagues to Thought and Sense  
Are far removed; I'm placed by Fate  
Out of the red of all Impertinence.  
Thus, tho my fleeting Life runs swiftly on,  
'twill not be short, because 'tis all my own.    

The Infidel.  

I.  
farewell Fruition, thou grand Cruel Cheat,  
Which first our hopes dost raise and then defeat.  
farewell thou Midwife to Abortive Bliss,  
Thou Mystery of fallacies.  
Distance presents the Object fair,  
With Charming features and a graceful air,  
But when we come to seize th' inviting prey,  
Like a Shy Ghost, it vanishes away.   

II.  
So to th' unthinking Boy the distant Sky  
Seems on some Mountain's Surface to rely;  
He with ambitious hast climbs the ascent,  
Curious to touch the Firmament:  
But when with an unweari'd place  
arrived he is at the long-wish'd-for place,  
With Sighs the sad defeat he does deplore,  
His Heaven is still as distant as before.   

III.  
And yet 'twas longe're I could thoroughly see  
This grand Impostor's frequent Treachery.  
Tho often fooled, yet I should still dream on  
Of Pleasure in Reversion.  
Tho still he did my hopes deceive,  
His fair Pretensions I would still believe.  
Such was my Charity, that tho I know  
And found him false, yet I would think him true.   

IV.  
But now he shall no more with shows deceive,  
I will no more enjoy, no more believe.  
Th' unwary juggler has so often shown  
His Fallacies, that now they're known.  
Shall I trust on? the Cheat is plain,  
I will not be imposed upon again.  
●… 'll view the Bright appearance from afar,  
But never try to catch the falling Star.    

On a Musician, supposed to be mad with music.  

I.  
POOR dull mistake of low Mortality,  
To call that Madness, which is Ecstasy.  
'tis no disorder of the Brain,  
His Soul is only set t'an higher strain.  
Out-soar he does the Sphere of Common sense,  
raised to Diviner Excellence;  
But when at highest pitch, his Soul out-flies  
Not Reason's Bounds, but those of vulgar Eyes.   

II.  
So when the Mystic Sibyl's Sacred Breast  
Was with Divine Infusions possessed,  
'twas Rage and Madness thought to be,  
Which was all Oracle and Mystery.  
And so the Soul that's shortly to Commence  
A Spirit free from dregs of Sense,  
Is thought to rave, when She discourses high,  
And breaths the lofty strains of Immortality.   

III.  
Music, thou Generous Ferment of the Soul,  
Thou universal Cement of the whole,  
Thou Spring of Passion, that dost inspire  
Religious Ardours, and Poetic Fire,  
Who'd think that Madness should b'ascrib'd to thee  
That mighty Discord to thy Harmony?  
But 'twas such ignorance that called the Gift Divine  
Of various Tongues, Rage, and th' effects of Wine.   

IV.  
But thou, Seraphic Soul, do thou advance  
In thy sweet Ecstasy, thy pleasing Trance:  
Let thy brisk passions mount still higher,  
Till they join to the Element of Fire.  
Soar higher yet, till thou shalt calmly hear  
The Music of a well-tuned Sphere:  
Then on the lumpish mass look down, and tho●… shalt kno●…  
The Madness of the World, for grovelling still below    

The Consolation.  

I.  
I Grant 'tis bad, but there is some relief  
In the Society of Grief.  
'tis sweet to him that mourns to see  
A whole House clad in Sorrow's Livery.  
Grief in Communion does remiss appear,  
Like harsher sounds in Consort, which less grace the Ear.   

II.  
Men would not Curse the Stars, did they dispense  
In common their ill Influence.  
Let none be rich, and Poverty  
Would not be thought so great a Misery.  
Our discontent is from comparison;  
Were better states unseen, each man would like his own.   

III.  
Should partial Seas wreck my poor Ship alone,  
I might with cause my Fate bemoan.  
But since before I sink, I see  
A Numerous Fleet of Ships descend with me.  
Why don't I with content my breath resign?  
〈…〉 will, and in the greater ruin bury mine.    

The Choice.  
Stet quicunque volet potens  
Aulae culmine lubrico, &c.  

I.  
NO, I shan't envy him whoever he be  
That stands upon the Battlements of State,  
Stand there who will for me,  
I'd rather be secure than great.  
Of being so high the pleasure is but small,  
But long the ruin if I chance to fall.   

II.  
Let me in some sweet shade serenely lie,  
Happy in leisure and obscurity;  
Whilst others place their joys  
In popularity and noise.  
Let my soft minutes glide obscurely on  
Like subterraneous streams, unheard, unknown.   

III.  
Thus when my days are all in silence past,  
A good plain Country-man I'll die at last.  
Death cannot choose but be  
To him a mighty misery,  
Who to the World was popularly known,  
And dies a Stranger to himself alone.    

The Meditation.  

I.  
IT must be done( my Soul) but 'tis a strange,  
A dismal and Mysterious Change,  
When thou shalt leave this Tenement of day,  
And to an unknown somewhere Wing away;  
When Time shall be Eternity, and thou  
Shalt be thou know'st not what,& live thou know'st not how.   

II.  
Amazing State! no wonder that we dread  
To think of Death, or view the Dead.  
Thou'rt all wrapped up in Clouds, as if to thee  
Our very Knowledge had Antipathy.  
Death could not a more Sad Retinue find,  
Sickness and Pain before, and Darkness all behind.   

III.  
Some Courteous Ghost, tell this great Secrecy,  
What 'tis you are, and we must be.  
You warn us of approaching Death, and why  
May we not know from you what 'tis to die?  
But you, having shot the gulf, delight to see  
Succeeding Souls plunge in with like uncertainty.   

IV.  
When Life's close Knot by Writ from Destiny,  
Disease shall cut, or Age-unty;  
When after some Delays, some dying Strife,  
The Soul stands shivering on the Ridge of Life;  
With what a dreadful Curiosity  
Does she launch out into the Sea of vast Eternity.   

V.  
So when the spacious Globe was delug'd o'er,  
And lower holds could save no more,  
On th' utmost Bough th' astonished Sinners stood,  
And viewed th' advances of th' encroaching Flood.  
O're-topp'd at length by th' Element's increase,  
With horror they resigned to the untried Abyss.    

The Irreconcilable.  

I.  
I Little thought ( my Damon) once, that you  
Could prove, and what is more, to me, untrue.  
Can I forget such Treachery, and Live?  
Mercy itself would not this Crime forgive.  
Heaven's Gates refuse to let Apostates in,  
No, that's the Great unpardonable Sin.   

II.  
Did you not vow by all the Powers above,  
That you could none but dear Orinda love?  
Did you not swear by all that is Divine,  
That you would only be and ever mine?  
You did, and yet you live securely too,  
And think that Heaven's false as well as you.   

III.  
Believe me, Love's a thing much too divine  
Thus to be Ape'd, and made a more design.  
'tis no less Crime than Treason here to feign,  
'tis Counterfeiting of a Royal Coin.  
But ah! Hypocrisy's no where so common grown,  
As in Most Sacred things, Love and Religion.   

IV.  
Go seek new Conquests, go, you have my leave,  
You shall not Grieve her whom you could deceive.  
I don't lament, but pitty what you do,  
Nor take that Love as lost, which ne'er was true.  
The way that's left you to befriend my Fate,  
Is now to prove more constant in your Hate.    

A Discourse of the Care and Improvement of Time.  
TO be careful how we manage and employ our Time, is one of the first Precepts that is taught in the School of Wisdom, and one of the last that is learned. The first and leading dictate of Prudence is, That a Man propose to himself his true and best interest for his End; and the next is, That he make use of all those means and opportunities whereby that end is to be attained. And betwixt these two there is such a close connexion, that he who does not do the latter, cannot be supposed to intend the former. He that is not careful of his actions, shall never persuade me that he seriously proposes to himself his best interest, as his end, for if he did, he would as seriously apply himself to the regulation of the other as the means. And so he that is not careful of his Time, cannot in reason be supposed to be careful of his Actions; for if he were, he would certainly have a special regard to the opportunity of their performance.  
But, as I observed in the beginning, though this Precept be one of the Elementary dictates of Prudence, and stands written in the first page. of the Book of Wisdom; yet such is the sottishness and stupidity of the World, that there is none that is more slowly learned. And 'tis a prodigious thing to consider, that, although among all the Talents which are committed to our Stewardship, Time upon several accounts is the most precious, yet there is not any one of which the generality of men are more profuse and regardless. Tho it be a thing of that inestimable value, that 'tis not distributed to us entirely, and at once, like other Blessings, but is dealt out in minutes and little parcels, as if man were not fit to be trusted with the entire possession of such a choice Treasure, yet there are very many that think themselves so overstock'd with it, that instead of husbanding it to advantage, the main business of their thoughts is how to rid their hands of it, and accordingly they catch at every shadow and opportunity of relief; strike in at a venture with the next Companion, and so the dead Commodity be taken off, care not who be the Chapman. Nay, 'tis obvious to observe, that even those persons who are frugal and thrifty in every thing else, are yet extremely prodigal of their best Revenue, Time; Of which alone( as Seneca neatly observes) 'tis a virtue to be Covetous.  
Neither may this Censure be fastened only upon the unthinking multitude, the Sphere of whose Consideration is supposed to be very narrow, and their Apprehension shortsighted; but I observe that many of those who set up for Wits, and pretend to a more than ordinary sagacity, and delicacy of Sense, do notwithstanding spend their Time very unaccountably, and live away whole days, weeks, and sometimes months together, to as little purpose( tho it may be not so innocently) as if they had been asleep all the while. And this they are so far from being ashamed to own, that they freely boast of it, and pride themselves in it, thinking that it tends to their Reputation, and commends the greatness of their Parts, that they can support themselves upon the Natural stock, without being beholden to the Interest that is brought in by Study and Industry.  
But if their Parts be so good as they would have others believe, sure they are worth improving; if not, they have the more need of it. And tho it be an Argument of a rich mind, to be able to maintain itself without labour, and subsist without the advantages of Study, yet there is no man that has such a portion of Sense, but will understand the use of his Time better than to put it to the trial. Greatness of Parts is so far from being a discharge from Industry, that I find Men of the most exquisite Sense in all Ages were always most curious of their Time: Nay, the most Intelligent of all Created Beings( who may be allowed to pass a truer estimate upon things than the finest Mortal Wit) value Time at a high rate. Let me go( says the Angel to the importunate Patriarch) for the day breaketh. And therefore I very much suspect the excellency of those mens Parts, who are dissolute and careless mis-spenders of their Time: For if they were men of any thoughts, how is it possible but these should be some in the number? ( viz.) That this Life is wholly in order to another, and that Time is that sole opportunity that God has given us for transacting the great business of Eternity: That our work is great, and our day of working short, much of which also is lost and rendered useless, through the cloudiness and darkness of the Morning, and the thick vapours and unwholesome fogs of the Evening; the ignorance and inadvertency of Youth, and the Diseases and Infirmities of Old Age: That our portion of Time is not only short, as to its duration, but also uncertain in the possession: That the loss of it is irreparable to the loser, and profitable to no body else: That it shall be severely accounted for at the great Judgement, and lamented in a sad Eternity.  
He that considers these things( and sure he must needs be a very unthinking man that does not) will certainly be choice of his Time, and look upon it no longer as a bare state of duration, but as an Opportunity; and consequently will let no part of it( no considerable part at least) slip away either unobserved or unimprov'd. This is the most effectual way that I know of to secure to ones self the Character of a Wiseman here, and the reward of one hereafter. Whereas the vain Enthusiastic Pretenders to the Gift of Wit, that trifle away their Time, betray the shallowness and poverty of their Sense to the discerning few; or whatever they may pass for here among their fellow Mortals, do most infallibly make themselves cheap in the sight of Angels.   

Of Solitude.  
IT has been urged as an Objection, by some Atheistical Persons, against the existence of a God, that if there had been such a perfect Being, who was completely happy in the enjoyment of himself, he would never have gone about to make a World. Now, tho this Objection contributes nothing to the support of Atheism( the design of God in Creating the World being not to increase his happiness, but to Communicate it) yet it proceeds upon this true supposition, That Society is a Blessing. It is so, and that not only respectively, and in reference to the present circumstances of the World, and the Necessities of this Life, but also simply, and in its own Nature; since it shall be an accessary to our bliss in Heaven, and add many moments to the weight of Glory. Neither will the truth of this assertion be at all weakened by alleging that no benefit or advantage accrues to God by it, for that it becomes unbeneficial to him( tho a Blessing in its own nature) is purely by accident, because God eminently containing in himself all possible good, is uncapable of any New Accession.  
And as Society is in its own nature an instrument of Happiness, so is it made much more so by the indigencies and infirmities of Men. Man, of all Creatures in the World, is least qualified to live alone, because there is no Creature that has so many necessities to be relieved. And this I take to be one of the great Arts of Providence, to secure mutual amity and the reciprocation of good turns in the World, it being the Nature of Indigency, like common danger, to endear men to one another, and make them herd together, like Fellow-Sailors in a Storm. And this indeed is the true case of Mankind, we all Sail in one battom, and in a rough Sea, and stand in need of one anothers help at every turn, both for the Necessities and Refreshments of Life. And therefore I am very far from commending the undertaking of those Asceties, that out of a pretence of keeping themselves unspotted from the World, take up their quarters in deserts, and utterly abandon all human Society. This is in short( to say no more of it) to put themselves into an incapacity either of doing any good to the World, or of receiving any from it: and certainly that can be no desirable state. No, this Eremetical way of Living is utterly inconsistent with the Circumstances and Inclinations of human Nature; he must be a God, Self-sufficient and Independent that is fit for this state of absolute and perfect Solitude, and in this rigorous sense, It is not good for man( tho in paradise itself) to be alone.  
But tho Society, as 'tis opposed to a state of perfect and perpetual Solitude, be a Blessing, yet considering how little of it there is in the World that is good, I think it advisable for every man that has sense and thoughts enough, to be his own Companion,( for certainly there is more required to qualify a man for his own company than for other men's) to be as frequent in his Retirements as he can, and to communicate as little with the World as is consistent with the duty of doing good, and the discharge of the common offices of Humanity. 'tis true indeed( as Seneca says) Miscendae& alternandae sunt Solitudo& frequentia: Solitude and Company are to have their turns, and to be interplaced. But Wise-men use to dedicate the largest share of their Lives to the the former, and let the best and most of their Time go to make up the caconical Hours of Study, Meditation and Devotion. And for this, besides the practise of Wise-men, we have the Authentic example of our B. Lord himself, Who,( as 'tis reasonably supposed( for he had passed the thirtieth year of his Life before he entered upon the stage of Action, and then also sought all opportunities to be alone, and oftentimes purchased Retirement at the expense of Night-watches) allotted the greatest part of his little Time here on Earth to Privacy and Retirement; and 'tis highly probable, would have lived much more reservedly, had not the peculiar business of his function made it necessary for him to be conversant in the World. The inclination of our Lord lay more toward the Contemplative way of Life, tho the interest of Mankind engaged him oftentimes upon the Active. And 'tis very observable, that there is scarce any one thing which he vouchsafed to grace with so many marks and instances of favour and respect as he did Solitude. Which are thus summed up by the excellent Pen of a very great Master of Learning and Language; 
The Great Exemplar.  It was Solitude and Retirement in which Jesus kept his Vigils; the desert places heard him pray, in a privacy he was born, in the Wilderness he fed his thousands, upon a Mountain apart he was transfigured, upon a Mountain he died, and from a Mountain he ascended to his Father. In which Retirements his Devotion certainly did receive the advantage of convenient circumstances, and himself in such dispositions twice had the opportunities of Glory.  
Indeed, the Satisfactions and Advantages of Solitude( to a person that knows how to improve it) are very great, and far transcending those of a Secular and Popular Life. First, as to Pleasure and Satisfaction, whosoever considers the great variety of mens humours, the peevishness of some, the pride and conceitedness of others, and the impertinence of most; he that considers what unreasonable terms of Communion some persons impose upon those that partake of their Society; how rare 'tis for a man to light upon a Company, where, as his first Salutation, he shall not presently have a Bottle thrust to his Nose; he, I say, that considers these and a thousand more grievances, wherewith the folly and ill nature of men have conspired to burden Society, will find, take one time with another, Company is an occasion of almost as much displeasure as pleasure. Whereas in the mean time the Solitary and Contemplative man sits as safe in his Retirement as one of Homer's Heroes in a Cloud, and has this only trouble from the follies and extravagancies of men, that he pities them. He does not, it may be, laugh so loud, but he is better pleased: He is not perhaps so often merry, but neither is he so often disgusted; he lives to himself and God, full of Serenity and Content.  
And as the Pleasures and Satisfactions of Solitude exceed those of a Popular Life, so also do the Advantages. Of these there are two sorts, Moral and Intellectual; to both which Solitude is a particular friend. As to the first, it is plain that Solitude is the proper opportunity of Contemplation, which is both the Foundation and the Perfection of a Religious Life. It is( as the same excellent Person fore-cited says elsewhere of a single Life) the huge advantage of Religion, the great opportunity for the Retirements of Devotion, which being empty of Cares is full of Prayers, being unmingled with the World is apt to converse with God, and by not feeling the warmth of a too forward and indulgent Nature, flames out with holy Fires, till it be burning like the Cherubim and the most extasy'd Order of holy and unpolluted Spirits. And for this reason 'twas that the Ancients choose to build their Altars and Temples in Groves and Solitary Recesses, thereby intimating, that Solitude was the best opportunity of Religion.  
Neither are our intellectual advantages less indebted to Solitude. And here, tho I have in a great measure anticipated this consideration( there being nothing necessary required to complete the Character of a Wise-man, besides the knowledge of God and himself) yet I shall not confine myself to this instance, but deduce the matter further, and venture to affirm that all kinds of Speculative knowledge as well as practical, are best improved by Solitude. Indeed there is much talk about the great benefit of keeping Great men company, and thereupon 'tis usually reckoned among the disadvantages of a Country life, that those of that condition want the opportunities of a Learned Conversation. But to confess the truth, I think there is not so much in it a● people generally imagine. Indeed, were the Souls of men lodged in transparent cases, that we might red their thoughts; would they communicate what they know, were it the fashion to discourse learnedly,' twer●… worth while to frequent the Cabals of Great men: But when it shall be counted a piece of errand Pedantry, and defect of good breeding to start any Question of Learning in Company; when every man is as shy of his Notions as of a Fairy-treasure; and makes his Head not a Repository or Exchequer of Knowledge, but a Grave to bury it in: A man may be a constant attendant at the Conclaves of Learned men all his life long, and yet be no more the wiser for't than a Book-worm is for dwelling in Libraries. And therefore, to speak ingenuously, I don't see for my part wherein the great advantage of great Conversation lies, as the humours of men are pleased to order it. Were I to inform myself in business, and the management of affairs, I would sooner talk with a plain illiterate Farmer or Trades-man than the greatest Vertuoso of The Society; and as for Learning( which is the only thing they are supposed able to discourse well of) that in point of Civility they decline: So that I find I must take refuge at my Study at last, and there redeem the Time that I have lost among the Learned.   

A Discourse concerning Heroic Piety.  
SInce the practise of Religion in general is not only the Natural Instrument of our present Happiness, but also the only and indispensible condition of our Future, one would think there were but little left for the Orator to do here, the naked efficacy of Self-love, and a serious consideration of our true and main Interest, being sufficient to engage us upon Religious performances. But he that shall undertake to recommend the practise of Heroic Piety, has a much heavier task, not only because he persuades to higher degrees of virtue, but because he is to address himself wholly to a weaker Principle. For since our interest is secured by the performance of necessary Duty, there remains nothing but a Principle of Generosity to carry us on to the higher advances, the more glorious achievements in Religion. And what small probability there is that it will often do so, may appear from the ill success of the former and more prevailing Principle. For if the greatest interest imaginable can prevail with so very few to perform what is indispensably necessary to secure it, sure there is little hopes that Generosity, which is a much weaker Principle, should engage many upon greater performances.  
But yet, notwithstanding these discouragements, since our Blessed Saviour has taught us to pray, not only for the performance of God's will in general, but that it be done on Earth as it is in Heaven; that is, with the greatest zeal, readiness and alacrity, with all the degrees of Seraphic ardency that frail Mortality is capable of, I think a persuasive to Heroic Piety may be a proper and useful undertaking; it being very reasonable we should make that the object of our endeavours, which our Saviour thought fit to make the matter of our Prayers.  
In discoursing upon this subject, I shall proceed in this Method. 1. I shall state the notion of Heroic Piety, and show what I mean by it. 2. I shall demonstrate that there is such a thing. And 3. I shall offer some persuasives to recommend the practise of it.  
The Notion of Heroic Piety will be best understood by considering what the Moralists mean by Heroic virtue. For the one carries the same proportion in Religion that the other does in Morality. But before I proceed to explain the Thing, I suppose it will not be amiss to give some short account of the Name. That it is derived from the Greek word {αβγδ}, is very obvious, all the difficulty is concerning the derivation of the Greek word itself. And here I find the Grammarians are very much divided; some derive it {αβγδ}, but that seems somewhat hard; others derive it from {αβγδ}, because 'twas supposed by the Ancients that the Souls of the Heroes had their abode in the Air, where they had a near prospect of human affairs; and accordingly Xenon in Laertius, lib. 7. calls Heroes the Souls of wise men separated from their Bodies, and ranging about in the Air; others derive it from {αβγδ}, because the Heroes are a kind of terrestrial Gods, according to that definition which Lucian gives of an Hero, {αβγδ}, one that is neither God nor man, but a compound of both. Others derive it from {αβγδ}, the name of Juno, who was the President Goddess of the Air, intimating thereby either the Habitation, or the light aereal Nature of the Heroes. And this Etymology I remember is approved of by St. Austin, lib. 10. de Civ. Dei, cap. 21. But methinks the most natural and significant one is that of Plato, who derives it from {αβγδ}, because of that ardent and passionate Love which the Heroes are supposed to have for God. And as the word Hero is very doubtful as to its Etymology, so is it also various in its acceptation. Sometimes it is attributed to illustrious and eminent Personages while living, such as act and live above the ordinary strain of Mortality, and render it a very disputable Point whether they are Gods or men. A Character which Homer gives of the great Hector, Iliad ω.  
— {αβγδ}  
{αβγδ}.  
And in this sense the word Hero is used by Hesiod, 
{αβγδ}  
{αβγδ}—  Sometimes by Heroes are meant the Souls of wise and good men departed, as is evident from the fore-cited testimony in Laertius. But in the Platonic Philosophy by Heroes is understood a middle sort of Being, inferior to those whom they style the Immortal Gods, and superior to Man; as is to be seen at large in Hierocles.  
Beyond these three acceptations of the word, I do not know of any other. But this is certain, that in whatsoever sense it is used, it always denotes something great and extraordinary. So that from hence 'tis easy to collect what is meant by Heroic virtue,( viz.) Such a vehement and intense pursuance of a mans last and best end, as engages him upon such excellent and highly commendable actions, which advance him much above the ordinary level of human Nature, and which he might wholly omit, and yet still maintain the Character of a good man. Aristot. in his Ethics, l. 7. c. 1. calls it {αβγδ}, that virtue that is above us. By which, I suppose, he does not mean that it is above our reach and unattainable, but that it i●… above our obligation, and that when it i●… attained, it will elevate us above ourselves.  
In proportion to this Notion of Heroi●… virtue, I understand by Heroic Piety thos●… excellent degrees and eminencies of Religion which, tho to arrive at be extremely laudable, yet we may fall short of them without Sin, God having not bound them upon us as parts of Duty, or made them the Conditions of our Salvation, but only recommended them by way of Counsel, and left them as instances of Generosity. Of this sort are those high and singular Exercises of Religion which are the fruits and effects of a profound and steady contemplation of God: Such as are the passionate applications of Seraphic Love, acts of ecstatic joy and complacency in the Perfections of the Divine Nature, holy transports of Zeal and Devotion, Praise and Adoration: earnest contentions and very numerous returns of Prayer, actual references of our most natural and indifferent actions to Gods glory, extraordinary works of Charity, great severities of Mortification and Self-denial, abstemiousness from many lawful Pleasures, perpetual Celebacy, and whatsoever else are the excellent products of a contemplative and affectionate Religion.  
Thus far of the Notion of Heroic Piety. I come now to my second Undertaking, which was to show that there is such a thing. Tho universality and sincerity of Obedience be indispensably required of every Christian, and consequently every part of Religion obliges under the penalty of Damnation as to its kind, yet that there may be some degrees to the attaimment of which we are not so obliged, will evidently appear from the proof of this one single Proposition, That every one is not bound to do what is best. The reasonableness of which Proposition appears from the very nature of the thing; for since that which is Best is a Superlative, it necessary supposes the Positive to be good: And if so, then we are not bound to that which is best, for if we were, then that which is only good would be evil,( it being short of what we are bound to) which is contrary to the supposition.  
This Argument I take to be Demonstrative, and therefore 'twould be a kind of Supererogation in me to allege any more. But however, for the clearer eviction and stronger confirmation of this Assertion, I farther consider, that the Scripture consists of Counsels as well as Commands. This distinction, however denied by some in the heat of their engagements against Popery, 
Matth. 19.12. and 21. 1 Cor. 7.1.6.7.25.38. 2 Cor. 8.10. 2 Cor. 9.6.  is plainly intimated in several places of the New Testament, and allowed by the best of our Divines. Now if some things are matter of Counsel onely, 'tis obvious to conclude two things. 1. From their being counselled, that they are good( nothing being matter of Counsel but what is so) and secondly, from their being only counselled, that they do not oblige, and consequently, that there are some degrees of good that we are not obliged to.  
It is farther observable, that in Scripture there is mention made of a threefold Will of God. Rom. 12.2. {αβγδ}, That Will which is good, that which is well-pleasing, and that which is perfect. The first of these denotes absolute Duty, the two last the various degrees of Perfection and Heroic Excellence. Thus for St. Paul to preach the Gospel to the Corinthians, was an Act of strict Duty which he could not leave undone without incurring that woe which he annexes to the omission of it. 1 Cor. 9.16. {αβγδ}. But to preach without charging them was an instance of Generosity, 
Theophylact.  and in that respect there was room for boasting. Thus again, for a Jew to allot the tenth part of his Revenue every third year toward the relief of the Poor, was an act of express Duty, and in doing of that, he would but satisfy the obligation of the Law; But now if in his charitable contributions he should exceed that proportion, according to the degrees of the excess, so would the degrees of his Perfection be. Thus again in the matter of Devotion, daily Prayer is generally concluded to be a Duty, and by some critics that it be twice performed, in proportion to the returns of the Jewish Sacrifices, Morning and Evening; But now if a more generously disposed Christian should add a third time, or out of abundance of zeal should come up to the Psalmist's resolution of ( Seven times a day will I praise thee) this would be a free-will Offering, well pleasing and of sweet savour, but not commanded.  
From these and many other instances, which, if necessary, I could easily produce, it plainly appears that Religion does not consist in an indivisable point, but has a Latitude, and is capable of more and less, and consequently there is room for voluntary Oblations and Acts of Heroic Piety.  
I know it is usually objected here, that what is supposed to be thus Heroically performed, is inclusively enjoined by virtue of those comprehensive words, ( Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy Soul, &c.) But, I conceive, that all which is intended by that phrase, will amount to no more than, First, a sincere love of God, as 'tis opposed to that which is partial and divided; and secondly, such a degree of loving him, as admits of nothing into Competition with him. And thus far reach the Boundaries of indispensible Duty, it being impossible that he who does not love God in this sense and degree, should keep his Commandments. But beyond this, there are higher degrees, which, because we may fall short of without sin, are the more excellent when attained. So that in this Precept of loving God, as in all other instances of Religion, there is a great latitude, it being very possible for two Persons to love God sincerely and with their whole Soul, and yet in different measures( which is observed even among the Angels, the Seraphins having their name from their excess of Love) nay, for the same Person always to love God sincerely, and yet at some times to exceed himself, and with his Saviour( who to be sure never failed of necessary Duty) to pray yet more earnestly.  
There is another Objection yet behind, which I think myself concerned to answer, as well in my own defence as that of my Argument. Some perhaps may be so weak to imagine, that by asserting such a thing as heroic Piety, and that a Christian may do more than he is commanded, I too much favour the Doctrine of Supererogation. I confess the word Supererogation, however innocent as to its primitive acceptation, does now sound somewhat oddly, and therefore I am the more willing to decline it; tho I very much question whether the Papists are not something odiously represented in this point. But my business is not to vindicate them, but myself, in order to which I consider, that for a Man to do more than he is commanded, is an ambiguous expression, and may denote either that he can perform the whole Law of God and more, or that, tho he fail of his Duty in many Instances, and consequently with the rest of Mankind, is concluded under Sin; Yet in some others he may exceed it, by pressing forward to some degrees of excellency he is not obliged to. I do not assert the former of these, but the latter, and if the Doctors of the Roman Church mean no more by their Supererogation than this latter Notion of the word imports( and I must ingenuously confess it does not yet appear to me that they do) I cannot but aclowledge that I am so far a Papist, for I really believe, and I think I have sufficiently proved, that there are certain degrees in Religion, which we are not obliged to under Pain of Sin, and consequently that he who arrives so far, does( according to the latter notion of the Phrase) do more then he is commanded.  
Having in the foregoing Periods stated the Notion of heroic Piety, and demonstrated that there is such a thing, I proceed now to my third and last undertaking, which was to offer some persuasives to recommend the Practise of it. First then, I consider that Religion is the Perfection of a Man, the improvement and accomplishment of that part of him wherein he resembles his Maker, the pursuance of his best and last end, and consequently his Happiness. And will a man set bounds to his Happiness? Will he be no more happy than he is commanded, no more than what will just serve to secure him from a miserable Eternity? Is not Happiness desirable for it self, as well as for the avoiding of Misery? Why then do we deal with it as with dangerous physic, weighing it by Grains and Scruples and nice Proportions? Why do we drink so moderately of the River of Paradise, so sparing of the Well of Life? Are we afraid of making too nigh advances to the State of Angels, of becoming too like God, of antedating Heaven? Are we afraid our Happiness will flow in too thick upon us, that we shall not bear up against the Tide, but sink under the too powerful enjoyment? Hereafter indeed, when we are blessed with the Beatific Vision, and the Glories of the Divine Brightness shall flash too strong upon our Souls, so that our Happiness begins to be lessened by its greatness; We may then with the Angels that attend the Throne, veil our Faces, and divert some of the too exuberant blessedness: But now in this Region we are far enough from being under the Line, there is no danger of such Extremity, but rather the contrary, and therefore it would be now most advisable for us to be as Happy, and to that end, as Religious as we can.  
Secondly, I consider, that since God, out of the abundance of his overflowing and communicative Goodness, was pleased to create and design man for the best of Ends, the fruition of himself in endless Happiness, and since he has prescribed no other Conditions for the attaimment of this Happiness; but that we would live happily here in this State of Probation, having made nothing our Duty but what would have been best for us to do whether he had commanded it or no, and has thereby declared, that he is so far only pleased with our Services to him as they are beneficial to ourselves; this must needs be a most endearing engagement to one that has the least spark of Generosity or Ingenuity, to do something for the sake of so good a God, beyond the Measures of Necessity, and the regards of his main and final interest. This is the only Tribute of Gratitude we are capable of paying God for giving us such good, such reasonable, and righteous Laws. Had the conditions of our eternal welfare been never so hard, arbitrary, and contradictory to our present Happiness, yet more interest would engage us to perform necessary Duty, and shall we do no more out of a principle of Love to our excellent Lawgiver, for making our present Happiness the Condition of our future? Shall the Love of God constrain us to do no more then what we would do merely for the Love of ourselves? shall we stint our Performances to him, who sets no Measures to his Love of us? Can our Generosity be ever more seasonably employed than in endeavouring to please him in extraordinary Measures, whose Pleasure is to see us happy even while we please him? For so is the will of the wise and good governor of the World, that in serving him we should serve ourselves, and like Adam in his dressing and cultivation of Paradise, at the same time discharge the Employment which God sets us about, and consult our own Convenience: So that it fares with us in our religious Exercises as with the Votary that sacrifices at the Altar, who all the while he pleases and serves his God, enjoys the perfumes of his own Incense.  
Thirdly, I consider, that every Man has a restless Principle of Love implanted in his Nature, a certain Magnetism of Passion, whereby( according to the Platonic and true notion of Love) he continually aspires to something more excellent than himself, either really or apparently, with a design and inclination to perfect his Being. This affection and disposition of Mind all Men have, and at all times. Our other Passions ebb and flow like the Tide, have their Seasons and Periods like intermitting fevers. But this of Love is as constant as our Radical heat, as inseparable as thought, as even and equal as the Motions of Time. For no man does or can desire to be happy more at one time than at another, because he desires it always in the highest degree possible. 'tis true, his Love, as to particular objects, may increase or decrease, according to the various apprehensions he has of their excellencies; but then, like Motion in the Universe, what it loses in one part it gains in another; so that in the whole it remains always alike, and the same. Now this Amorous Principle which every man receives with his Soul, and which is breathed into him with the breath of Life, must necessary have an object about which it may exercise itself, there being no such thing in Love( if in Nature) as an Element of Self-sufficient Fire. For tho we may easily and truly frame an abstract notion of Love or Desire in general, yet if we respect its real existence, we shall as soon find First Matter without Form, as Love without a particular Object. And, as 'tis necessary to the very being of Love that it have an object, so is it to our content and happiness, that it be a proportionate and satisfying one; for otherwise that passion which was intended as an instrument of happiness, will prove an affliction and torment to us. Now there is but one such object to be found, and that is God. In the application of our Passions to other things, the advice of the Poet is exceeding necessary, Quicquid amas cupias non placuisse nimis. marshal. That we should be very cantious how far we suffer ourselves to be engaged in the love of any thing, because there is nothing but disappointment in the enjoyment, and uncertainty in the possession. We must needs therefore be miserable in our Love, unless God be the object of it. But neither is our happiness sufficiently secured by making God the object of our Love, unless we concentre our whole affections upon him, and( in the strictest sense of the Phrase) love him with all our Heart and with all our Soul. For otherwise, whatever portion of our Love does not run in this Channel, must necessary fix upon disproportionate and unsatisfying objects, and consequently be an instrument of discontent to us. 'tis necessary therefore to the completing of our happiness, that that object should engross all our affections to itself, which only can satisfy them; 
Marsilius Ficinus, Tom. 2. pag. 315.  and( according to the comparison of an ingenious Platonist) that our minds should have the same habitude to God that the Eye has to Light. Now the Eye does not only love Light above other things, but delights in nothing else. I confess, such an absolute and entire Dedication of our love to God as this, is not always practicable in this Life. It is the privilege and happiness of those confirmed Spirits who are so swallowed up in the Comprehensions of Eternity, and so perpetually ravished with the Glories of the Divine Beauty, that they have not the power to turn aside to any other object. But tho this Superlative Excellency of Divine Love be not attainable on this side of the thick darkness, it being the proper effect of open Vision, and not of Contemplation; yet however, by the help of this latter, we may arrive to many degrees of it, and the more entire and undivided our love is to God, the fewer-disappointments and dissatisfactions we shall meet with in the World, which is a very strong engagement to Heroic Piety.  
Fourthly, I consider, that the degrees of our Reward shall be proportionable to the degrees of our Piety: We shall reap as plentifully as we sow, and at the great day of Retribution, we shall find, that besides the general Collation of Happiness, peculiar Coronets of Glory are prepared for Eminent Saints. Indeed, all hearty and sincere lovers of God and Religion shall partake of the glories of the Kingdom; but some shall sit nearer the Throne than others, and enjoy a more intimate perception of the Divine Beauty. All the true Followers of Jesus shall indeed feast with him at the great Supper, but some shall be placed nearer to him than others, and still there shall be a Beloved Disciple that shall lean on his Bosom. I know this Doctrine concerning different degrees of Glory, is( and indeed what is there that is not) very much questioned by some, and peremptorily denied by others; but since it is so highly agreeable to the goodness and bounty of God, and to the Catholic Measures of Sense and Reason; and is so mightily favoured, if not expressly asserted in many places of Scripture, I shall not here go about to establish the truth of it, but taking it for granted, do urge this as another consideration of great moment, toward encouraging the practise of Heroic Piety.  
Fifthly, and lastly, I consider, that We have indeed but very little time to serve God in. The Life of man at longest is but short, and considering how small a part of it we live, much shorter. If we deduct from the Computation of our Years( as we must do, if we will take a true estimate of our Life) that part of our time which is spent in the incogitancy of Infancy and Childhood, the impertinence and heedlessness of Youth, in the necessities of Nature, Eating, Drinking, Sleeping, and other Refreshments; in business and worldly Concerns, engagements with Friends and Relations, in the offices of Civility and mutual intercourse; besides a thousand other unnecessary avocations: we shall find that there is but a small portion left even for the Retirements of Study, for our improvement in Arts and Sciences, and other intellectual accomplishments. But then if we consider what great disbursements of our time are made upon them also, we shall find that Religion is crowded up into a very narrow compass; so narrow, that were not the rewards of Heaven matter of express Revelation, 'twould be the greatest Presumption imaginable to hope for them upon the condition of such inconsiderable Services. Since then our time of serving God is so very short, so infinitely disproportionate to the rewards we expect from him, 'tis but a reasonable piece of ingenuity to work with all our might, and do as much in it as we can: to supply the poverty of Time by frugal management and intenseness of affection, to serve God earnestly, vigorously, and zealously; and in one days Devotion to abbreviate the ordinary Piety of many years. 'tis said of the Devil, that he prosecuted his malicious designs against the Church with greater earnestness and vigour, 
Revel. 12.12.  because he knew he had but a short time. And shall not the same consideration prevail with a generous Soul to do as much for God and Religion, as the Devil did against them? 'tis a shane for him that has but a short part to act upon the Stage, not to perform it well, especially when he is to act it but once. Man has but one state of Probation, and that of an exceeding short continuance, and therefore, since he cannot serve God long, he should serve him much, employ every minute of his life to the best advantage, thicken his Devotions, hallow every day in his calendar by Religious exercises, and every action in his Life by holy references and designments; for let him make what hast he can to be wise, Time will out-run him. This is a Consideration of infinite moment to him that duly weighs it; and he that thus numbers his days, will find great reason to apply his heart to more than ordinary degrees of Wisdom.   

AN IDEA OF HAPPINESS, IN A LETTER to a FRIEND: inquiring Wherein the Greatest Happiness attainable by Man in this Life does consist.  
By JOHN NORRIS, Fellow of All-Souls college in Oxford.  
The Second Edition.  
— Sollicitis vitam consumimus annis,  
Torquemurque metu caecaque cupidine rerum,  
Aeternisque Senes curis dum quaerimus aevum,  
Perdimus,& nullo votorum fine beati,  
Victuros agimus semper, nec vivimus unquam.  Manilius lib. 4. 
LONDON, Printed for James Norris, at the Kings-Arms without Temple-Bar. 1684.   

Upon a Treatise called The Idea of Happiness.  

SOme Truths there are of so refined a strain,  
They all Commerce with vulgar Souls disdain,  
And nobler Spirits only entertain;  
Who, while the Sordid crowd feed gross beneath,  
The Purer Element exalted breath.  
To such alone our Author does prepare  
An Intellectual Treat of Heavenly fare;  
Rich Manna, true Elixir, drawn with art  
More exquisite than Hermes could impart;  
Substantial Happiness, Joys uncreate,  
Beyond the reach of Time, beyond the power of fate;  
foretastes of Bliss which in this life commence  
To the pure Intellect, abstract from sense;  
Such ecstasies as raise the human Soul,  
In trance inessable, above the Starry Pole;  
Uniting, Man by ways not understood,  
To God, the universal Spring of Good.  
Great Mystery! which tho it soars above  
My grovelling Reason, I adore and love.  
blessed Union, which mankind advances more  
Than by the Fall it was debased before.  
Man was at first below the Angels made,  
But now with higher Glory is arrayed.  
They for their errors found no offered Grace,  
For ever banished from their Makers Face.  
But God himself in Human Form descends,  
And man's Redemption by his Death commends.  
By which vast Merit happy we receive  
Both in and with the Deity to Live.  
Who that his Dignity did truly know,  
Would fix his fond desires on things below?  
All the huge Boast of Life is but a Dream  
compared with even a thought of this high Theme,  
The great Idea, which so nobly Shines  
In the rich habit of thy wondrous Lines.  
Farewell vain World, and all thy empty Pride,  
With which it glitters only till 'tis tried,  
When the false Lustre vanishing away  
The baseness of the Metal does betray.  
For I, directed by thy light Divine,  
To true and lasting Joys my Soul resign,  
Which here on Earth begin in less degree,  
And higher run to all Eternity.   
London, Feb. 12. 1684. G. P.   

To the admired( though to me unknown) Author, on his ingenious Treatise, The Idea of Happiness.  

SOme Ages of the World had passed, before  
Our Fathers found the use of Sail and Oar.  
Enthark'd securely in a hollow three,  
They rudely ventured first to Plough the Sea.  
With Branches they supplied the use of Oar,  
Their Rule and Compass was the adjacent Shore.  
But still Experience taught them, and they grew  
Both Wiser every day, and Bolder too.  
And every Generation found out something new.  
At length by sume Great Hero was made known,  
To men, the Art of Navigation.  
And now in foreign Goods the Merchants trade,  
Islands begin to be inhabited.  
But still their Knowledge did contracted lie  
In little room, lame was their Geography,  
And to affirm Antipodes was heresy.  
Till the Great Drake resolved the weighty doubt  
By compassing the spacious World about.  
The mighty Drake, who Regions did explore,  
Known only to One greater Traveller, the Sun, before.  
So we had never seen the brightest ray  
Of Truth Divine, hadst thou not shown the way.  
Thou art our Drake, Thou who alone didst dare  
To move in an unknown, untrodden Sphere,  
And, for less active Mortals, didst descry  
New Worlds of most refined Philosophy.  
So, by the Conduct of an angels Hand,  
The Israelites possessed the happy Land.  
To thee, on Contemplation's Mount, were shown  
The Heavenly Glories, on the Face they shone,  
And with thee thou hast brought the inherent Brightness down.  
In thy Idea we engraven see,  
In Characters Divine, Felicity.  
Thou a new Map of paradise hast drawn,  
And more exact than er'e before was known.  
Which( if there's ought that Poets may foretell)  
Shall last as long( 'tis drawn so rarely well  
As men believe a Heaven, or fear a Hell.   
London, Feb. 7. 1684. W. R.   

ON Mr. Norris's Idea of Happiness.  

I.  
WHEN our inspired Writer, mounting on  
The Wings of towering Contemplation,  
Could not to our low Sphere his flight confine,  
But with a Genius Divine,  
Flew high, and Cut the pure etherial Line;  
When all dissolved in ecstasies,  
He his Idea framed of Happiness;  
A bright faced Cherub 'twas that lead the way,  
And cleared his Eyes with a celestial Ray,  
And that he might to men make known  
His strange Mysterious Revelation,  
inspired his Soul with Gusts and Strains Divine,  
Beyond whate'er were given by the Sacred Nine,  
With him he took his flight  
Through the vast Orbs of Light,  
Left all our gilded Toys,  
Our Atmosphere of dusky Joys,  
No false disguises could his Eyes betray  
Nor gaudy Lures his flight delay,  
Towards Heaven he made, and everlasting Day.   

II.  
The Seraphins they guarded him along,  
And as he upwards did aspire,  
With Hallelujahs raised his Genius higher,  
And with celestial Cadence filled his Tongue.  
Till he at length passed on,  
Through many a Blissful Region,  
To the bright Court above,  
The Element of Love.  
Where, with enlightened and enamoured Eyes,  
In Beatific ecstasies,  
He viewed the dazzling Jasper mound  
That did the Empyrean Seat surround,  
The great Metropolis of Bliss,  
And in its Anti-courts did sit,  
Enjoying all that could be fit,  
For one not made Immortal yet.  
Thus did his Soul from Heaven but one remove  
Abstracted by Seraphic Love,  
From ties Corporeal well nigh rent,  
By powerful Energys of Thought intent  
Dwell fixed in Contemplation on the bright  
Ideas of the God of Light.  
Till scorning sensual Objects, he could feast  
On Praises, and on Anthems make Repast.  
And did on this side Heaven with rays Divin●…  
Of antedated and immortal Glory Shine.   

III.  
Then, like a bright Columbus, down the Skies  
He sailed, his Voyage  told, and new discoveries  
Of Islands Fortunate, and Coasts of Bliss  
And Continents of everlasting Happiness.  
And of them Charts and Maps he drew,  
Fair, like th' Original, and True,  
Casting the Rumb's by which you are to Steer,  
And how the Shelves to pass, and how the Rocks to clear  
Of Joys that true and good appear.  
He tells how the cost bears, and how to tack  
Lest we for shore the Clouds mistake,  
Lest into gulfs of sensual Joys we fall  
Pursuing Intellectual;  
He shows the shortness of the formers date,  
How few they are, and how they Circulate  
Still to the Point from whence they first begun,  
That nothing's good nor new under the Sun.   

IV.  
Then, as a radiant Cynosure, he leads  
By these his Lines of Light  
And paths then Milky way more bright,  
Souls more refined; Them he conducts and guides,  
By many a Degree  
Of the large Latitude of ecstasy,  
In th' Ocean of perpetual delight  
Through Visions, Raptures, Elevations high,  
To the round Haven of Eternity.  
Till by Calm Silence all a round  
And still tranquillity 'tis found  
That an eternal Paradise is nigh.  
And having made the Port  
Where joys without alloy resort,  
They take their larger Portions with the blessed  
In Vision, Love, and Joy, and endless Rest.   
London, March 25. 1684. S. P.   

An Idea of Happiness, &c.  
SIR,  
THO you have been pleased to assign me the Task of an Angel, and in that Respect have warranted me to disobey you; yet since, a considerable part of that experimental Knowledge which I have of Happiness is owing to the Delight which I take in your virtuous and endearing Friendship, I think 'tis but reasonable I should endeavour to give you an Idea of that, whereof you have given me the Possession.  
You desire to know of me wherein the greatest Happiness attainable by man in this Life does consist. And here, tho I see myself engaged in a work already too difficult for me, yet I find it necessary to enlarge it: For, since the greatest Happiness, or Summum Bonum of this Life is a Species of Happiness in general, and since it is called( Greatest) not because absolutely perfect and complete; but inasmuch as it comes nearest to that which indeed is so, it will be necessary first to state the Notion of Happiness in General, and then to define wherein that Happiness does consist which is perfect and complete, before I can proceed to a Resolution of your Question.  
By Happiness, in the most general Sense of the word, I understand nothing else but an Enjoyment of any Good. The least Degree of Good has the same Proportion to the least Degree of Happiness as the greatest has to the greatest, and consequently as many ways as a man enjoys any Good, so many ways he may be said to be happy: neither will the Mixture of Evil make him forfeit his Right to this Title, unless it either equals the Good he enjoys, or exceeds it: And then indeed it does; but the Reason is, because in strictness of Speaking, upon the whole Account the man enjoys no Good at all: For if the Good and the Evil be equal-balanc'd, it must needs be indifferent to that man either to be or not to be, there being not the least Grain of good to determine his Choice: So that he can no more be said to be happy in that Condition, than he could before he was born. And much less, if the Evil exceeds the Good: For then he is not only not happy, but absolutely and purely miserable: For after an exact Commensuration supposed between the Good and the Evil, all that remains over of the Evil is pure and simplo Misery; which is the Case of the damned: And when 'tis once come to this( whatever some Mens metaphysics may persuade them) I am very well satisfied, that 'tis better not to be than to be. But now on the other side, if the Good does never so little out-weigh the Evil, that Overplus of Good is as pure and unallay'd in its Proportion, as if there were no such Mixture at all; and consequently the Possession of it may properly be called Happiness.  
I know the Masters of Moral Philosophy do not treat of Happiness in this Latitude; neither is it fit they should: For their Business being to point out the ultimate End of human Actions, it would be an impertinent thing for them to give any other Idea of Happiness than the highest: But however this does not hinder but that the General Idea of Happiness may be extended farther, even to the Fruition of any Good whatsoever: Neither is there any reason to find Fault with the Latitude of this Notion, since we aclowledge Degrees even in Glory.  
In this General Idea of Happiness two things are contained. One is, some Good, either real of apparent, in the Fruition of which we are said to be in some measure or other happy. The other is the very Fruition itself. The first of these is usually called Objective Happiness, and the latter Formal. Some I know divide Happiness into these as distinct Species; but I think not so artificially: For they are both but constituent Parts, which jointly make up one and the same Happiness: Neither of them are sufficient alone, but they are both equally necessary. That the last of these is a necessary Ingredient, I think no doubt can reasonably be made: For what would the greatest Good imaginable signify without Fruition? And that the former is likewise necessary is no less certain: For how can there be such a thing as Fruition without an Object? I grant 'tis not at all necessary that the Object be a real substantial Good; if it appear so, 'tis sufficient.  
From this Distinction of real and apparent Good, some have taken occasion to distinguish of Happiness likewise into two sorts, real and imaginary: But I believe, upon a more narrow Scrutiny into the matter, 'twill be found, that all Happiness, according to its Proportion, is equally real; and that that which they term Imaginary, too w●●● deserves the Name, there being no such thing in Nature: For let the Object of it be never so fantastic, yet it must still carry the Semblance and Appearance of Good( otherwise it can neither move the Appetite nor please it, and consequently be neither an Object of Desire nor of Fruition;) and if so, the Happiness must needs be real, because the Formality of the Object, thō 'twere never so true and real good, would notwithstanding lye in the Appearance, not in the Reality: Whether it be real or no is purely accidental: For, since to be happy can be nothing else but to enjoy something which I desire, the Object of my Happiness must needs be enjoyed under the same Formality as 'tis desired. Now since 'tis desired only as apparently good, it must needs please me when obtained under the same Notion. So that it matters not to the Reality of my Happiness, whether the Object of it be really good, or only apprehended so, since if it were never so real, it pleases only as apparent. The Fool has his paradise as well as the Wise-man, and for the time is as happy in it; and a kind Delusion will make a Cloud as pleasing as the Queen of Heaven. And therefore I think it impossible for a man to think himself happy, and( during that persuasion) not really to be so. He enjoys the Creature of his own Fancy, worships the Idol of his Imagination, and the happiest man upon Earth does no more: For let the Circumstances of his Life be what they will, 'tis his Opinion only that must give the Relish. Without this, Heaven itself would afford him no Content, nor the Vision of God prove Beatific. 'tis true, the man is seated at the Spring-Head of Happiness, is surrounded with excellent Objects; but alas, it appears not so to him; he is not at all affencted with his Condition, but, like Adam, lies fast in a dead Sleep in the midst of paradise.  
The Sum of this Argument is this; Good is in the same manner the Object of Fruition, as 'tis of Desire; and that is not as really good in its own Nature, but as 'tis judged so by the Understanding: And consequently, tho it be only apparent, it must needs be as effectual to gratify the Appetite as it was at first to excite it during that Appearance. So long as it keeps on its Vizor and imposes upon the Understanding, what is wanting in the thing, is made up by an obliging Imposture, and Ignorance becomes here the Mother of Happiness as well as of Devotion: But if the man will dare to be wise, and too curiously examine the superficial Tinsel-Good, he undeceives himself to his own Cost, and, like Adam, adventuring to eat of the three of Knowledge, sees himself naked, and is ashamed. And for this reason I think it impossible for any man to love to be flattered: 'tis true, he may delight to hear himself commended by those who indeed do flatter him; but the true reason of that is, because he does not apprehended that to be Flattery which indeed is so; but when he once thoroughly knows it, 'tis impossible he should be any longer delighted with it. I shall conclude this Point with this useful Reflection, That since every Man's Happiness depends wholly upon his own Opinion, the Foundation upon which all envious Men proceed, must needs be either false or very uncertain. False, if they think that outward Circumstances and States of Life are all the Ingredients of Happiness; but uncertain however: For since they measure the Happiness of other Men by their own Opinion, 'tis more Chance if they do not misplace their Envy, unless they were sure the other Person was of the like Opinion with themselves. And now what a vain irrational thing is it to disquiet ourselves into a dislike of our own Condition, merely because we mistake another Man's?  
Thus far of the Notion of Happiness in General; I now proceed to consider that Happiness which is {αβγδ}( as Plato speaks) sound and entire, perfect and complete. Concerning the general Notion of which, all men, I suppose, are as much agreed as they are in the Idea of a Priangle. That 'tis such a State than which a better cannot be conceived: In which there is no Evil you can fear, no Good which you desire and have not; That which fully and constantly satisfies the Demand of every Appetite, and leaves no possibility for a desire of Change; or to sum it up in that comprehensive Expression of the Poet, Quod sis esse velis, nihilque malis.  
When you would always be what you are, and( as the Earl of Roscommond very significantly renders it) do Rather nothing. This I suppose is the utmost that can be said or conceived of it, and less than this will not be enough. And thus far we are all agreed. For I suppose, the many various Disputes maintained by Philosophers concerning Happiness, could not respect this general Notion of it, but only the particular causes or means whereby it might be acquired. And I find Tully concurring with me in the same Observation, 
Lib. 3. de Fin.  Ea est beata vita( says he) quaerimus autem non quae fit, said unde. The difficulty is not to frame a conception of a perfectly happy State in the general, but to define in particular wherein it consists.  
But before I undertake this Province, I think it might not be amiss to remove one Prejudice, which, because it has gained upon myself sometimes in my Melancholy Retirements, I am apt to think it may be incident to other men also. It is this, Whether after so many Desputes about, so many restless endeavours after this state of perfect Happiness, there be any such thing or no. Whether it be not a mere Idea, as imaginary as Plato's Common-wealth, as fictious as the Groves of Elysium. I confess, this suspicion has oftentimes overcast my mind with black thoughts, damped my Devotion, and as it were, clipped the Wings of my Aspiring Soul. And I happened to fall into it upon a serious reflection on the nature of Fruition in the several Periods and Circumstances of my Life. For I observed according to my Narrow experience, that I never had in all my Life the same thoughts of any good in the very time of the enjoying it as I had before. I have known when I have promised myself vast Satisfactions, and my imagination has presented me at a distance with a fair Landscape of Delights, yet when I drew nigh to grasp the alluring Happiness, like the Sensitive Plant it contracted itself at the touch, and shrink'd almost to nothing in the Fruition. And though after the Enjoyment is past, it seems great again upon Reflection as it did before in Expectation, yet should a Platonical Revolution make the same Circumstances recur, I should not think so. I found 'twas ever with me as with the Traveller, to whom the Ground which is before him, and that which he has left behind him seems always more curiously embroidered and delightsome, than that which he stands upon. So that my Happiness, like the time wherein I thought to enjoy it, was always either past or to come, never present. Methought I could often say upon a Recollection, How happy was I at such a time! Or when I was in expectation. How happy shall I be if I compass such a design! But scarce ever, I am so. I was pretty well pleased methought while I expected, while I hoped, till Fruition jogged me out of my pleasing slumber and I knew it was but a Dream. And this single Consideration has often made me even in the very pursuit after Happiness, and full career of my Passions, to stop short on this side of Fruition, and to choose rather with Moses upon Mount Nebo to entertain my fancy with a remote Prospect of the Happy Land, than to go in and Possess it, and then repined. How then shall Man be happy, when setting aside all the Crosses of Fortune, he will complain even of Success, and Fruition itself shall disappoint him!  
And this melancholy reflection bread in me a kind of Suspicion, that for all that I knew it might be so in Heaven too. That although at this distance I might frame to myself bright Ideas of that Region of Bliss; yet when I came to the Possession of it, I should not find that perfect Happiness there which I expected, but that it would be always to come as 'tis now, and that I should seek for Heaven even in Heaven itself. That I should not fully acquiesce in my condition there, but at length desire a Change. And that which confirmed me the more in this unhappy Scepticism, was, because I considered that a great number of excellent Beings who enjoyed the very Quintessence of Bliss, who were as happy as God and Heaven could make them, grew soon uneasy and weary of their State and left their own Habitation. Which argues that their Happiness was not perfect and complete, because otherwise they would not have desired a Change, since that very desire is an Imperfection. And if Happiness be not complete in Heaven, sure 'tis impossible to be found any where else.  
Before therefore I proceed to define wherein perfect Happiness does consist, I think it necessary to endeavour the removal of this Scruple, which, like the flaming Sword, forbids entrance into paradise. In order to which, I shall inquire into the true Reason why these Sublunary good things when enjoyed do neither answer our expectations, nor satisfy our Appetites. Now this must proceed either from the nature of Fruition itself, or from the Imperfection of it, or from the Object of it, or from ourselves. I confess, did this defect proceed from the very nature of Fruition( as is supposed in the Objection) 'tis impossible there should be any such thing as perfect Happiness, since 'twould faint away while enjoyed, and expire in our embraces. But that it cannot proceed thence, I have this to offer, Because Fruition being nothing else but an Application or Union of the Soul to some good or agreeable Object, it is impossible that should lessen the good enjoyed. Indeed it may lessen our estimation of it, but that is because we do not rightly consider the nature of things, but promise our selves infinite Satisfactions in the enjoyment of finite Objects. We look upon things through a false Glass, which Magnifies the Object at a distance much beyond its just Dimensions. We represent our future enjoyments to ourselves in such savourable and partial Ideas which abstract from all the inconveniencies and allays which will really in the Event accompany them. And if we thus over-rate our Felicities before-hand, 'tis no wonder if they balk our Expectations in the Fruition. But then it must be observed, that the Fruition does not cause this Deficiency in the Object, but only discover it. We have a better insight into the Nature of things near at hand, than when we stood afar off, and consequently discern those defects and imperfections, which, like the qualities of an ill mistress, lay hide all the time of Courtship, and now begin to betray themselves, when 'tis come to enjoyment. But this can never happen but where the Object is finite. An infinite Object can never be over-valued and consequently cannot frustrate our Expectations.  
And as we are not to charge Fruition with our disappointments but ourselves( because we are accessary to our own delusion by taking false measures of things) so neither is the Unsatisfactoriness of any condition to be imputed to the Nature of Fruition itself, but either to the imperfection of it or to the finiteness of the Object. Let the Object be never so perfect, yet if the Fruition of it be in an imperfect measure there will still be room for Unsatisfactoriness, as it appears in our enjoyment of God in this Life. Neither can a finite Object fully satisfy us though we enjoy it never so thoroughly. For since to a full satisfaction and acquiescence of Mind 'tis required that our Faculties be always entertained and we ever enjoying: it is impossible a finite Object should afford this Satisfaction, because all the good that is in it( being finite) is at length run over, and then the enjoyment is at an end, The flower is sucked dry, and we necessary desire a Change. Whenever therefore our enjoyment proves unsatisfying, we may conclude, that either the Object is finite, or the Fruition imperfect. But then how came the Angels to be dissatisfied with their Condition in the Regions of light and immortality, when they drank freely of the Fountain of Life proceeding out of the Throne of God, 
Revel. 26.  with whom is fullness of Joy, and at whose Right hand are Pleasures for evermore. Here certainly there is no room either for the finiteness of the Object, or the imperfection of Fruition. And therefore their dissatisfaction can be imputed to no other Cause, than the Nature of Fruition in general, which is to lessen the good enjoyed, as was supposed in the Objection. This I confess presses hard, and indeed, I have but one way to extricate myself from this difficulty, and that is by supposing a State of Probation in the Angels. That they did not immediately upon their Creation enjoy an infinite Object, or if they did, yet that 'twas in an imperfect measure. For should it be granted that they were at first confirmed in Bliss and completely happy both in respect of Fruition and Object, as we suppose they are now, I cannot conceive it possible they should be dissatisfied with their Condition. This being repugnant to the Idea of Perfect Happiness.  
Since then this dissatisfaction must be derived either from the imperfection of the Fruition, or the finiteness of the Object, and not from the Nature of Fruition in the general, to infer the possibility of perfect Happiness, there needs no more to be supposed than the existence of a Being full fraught with infinite inexhaustable good, and that he is able to Communicate to the full. There may be then such a thing as Perfect Happiness. The possibility of which may also be further proved( tho not explicated) from those boundless Desires, that immortal Thirst every man has after it by Nature: Concerning which I observe, that nothing does more constantly, more inseparably cleave to our Minds than this Desire of perfect and consummated Happiness: This, as Plato pathetically expresses it, is, {αβγδ}, the most excellent end of all our Endeavours, the great prise, the great Hope. This is the Mark every Man shoots at, and tho we miss our Aim never so often, yet we will not, cannot give over; but, like passionate Lovers, take Resolution from a Repulse. The rest of our Passions are much at our own Disposal; yield either to Reason or Time; we either Argue ourselves out of them, or at least out-live them. We are not always in Love with Pomp and Grandeur, nor always dazzled with the glittering of Riches; and there is a Season when Pleasure itself shall Court in vain: But the desire of perfect Happiness has no Intervals, no Vicissitudes, it out-lasts the Motion of the Pulse, and survives the Ruins of the Grave. Many Waters cannot quench it, neither can the Floods Drown it: And now certainly God would never have planted such an Ardent, such an importunate Appetite in our Souls, and as it were interwoven it with our very Natures, had he not been able to satisfy it.  
I come now to show wherein this perfect Happiness does consist, concerning which, I affirm in the first place, that it is not to be found in any thing we can enjoy in this Life. The greatest Fruition we have of God here, is imperfect, and consequently unsatisfactory. And as for all other Objects they are finite, and consequently, though never so fully enjoyed, cannot afford us perfect Satisfaction. No; 
Job 28.  Man knoweth not the price thereof: Neither is it to be found in the Land of the Living. The Depth saith, it is not in me, and the Sea saith, it is not in me. The Vanity of the Creature has been so copiously discoursed upon, both by Philosophers and Divines, and is withall so obvious to every thinking man's Experience, that I need not here take an Inventory of the Creation, nor turn Ecclesiastes after Solomon. And besides, I have already anticipated this Argument in what I have said concerning Fruition. I shall only add one or two Remarks concerning the Objects of Secular Happiness, which are not so commonly insisted upon, to what has been there said. The first is this, that the Objects wherein Men generally seek for Happiness here, are not only finite in their Nature, but also few in number. Indeed, could a Man's Life be so contrived, that he should have a new Pleasure still ready at hand as soon as he was grown weary of the Old, and every day enjoy a Virgin Delight, he might then perhaps like Mr. Hobbs his Notion, and for a while think himself happy in this continued Succession of new Acquisitions. But alas, Nature does not treat us with this Variety. The compass of our enjoyments is much shorter than that of our Lives, and there is a Periodical Circulation of our Pleasures as well as of our Blood. 
— Versamur ibidem atque insumus usque.  
Nec nova vivendo procuditur ulla voluptas.  Lucretius. The Enjoyments of our Lives run in a perpetual Round like the Months in the calendar, but with a quicker Revolution; we dance like Fairies in a circled, and our whole Life is but a nauseous Tautology: We rise like the Sun, and run the same Course we did the day before, and to morrow is but the same over again: So that the greatest Favourite of Fortune will have Reason often enough to cry out with him in Seneca, Quosque eadem? But there is another Grievance which contributes to defeat our Endeavours after perfect Happiness in the Enjoyments of this Life; Which is, that the Objects wherein we seek it, are not only finite and few; but that they commonly prove Occasions of greater Sorrow to us than ever they afforded us Content. This may be made out several ways, as from the Labour of Getting, the Care of Keeping, the fear of Losing, and the like topics, commonly insisted on by others; but I wave these, and fix upon another Account less blown upon, and I think more material than any of the rest. It is this, that altho the Object loses that great appearance in the Fruition which it had in the expectation, yet after it is gone it Resumes it again. Now we, when we lament the loss, do not take our measures from that appearance which the Object had in the Enjoyment( as we should do to make our sorrow not exceed our Happiness) but from that which it has in the reflection, and consequently we must needs be more miserable in the loss then we were happy in the enjoyment.  
From these and the like Considerations, I think it will evidently appear, that this perfect Happiness is not to be found in any thing we can enjoy in this Life. Wherein then does it consist? I answer positively, in the full and entire Fruition of God. He( as Plato speaks) is {αβγδ}, the Proper and Principal End of Man, the Center of our Tendency, the Ark of our Rest. He is the Object which alone can satisfy the appetite of the most Capacious Soul, and stand the Test of Fruition to Eternity. And to enjoy him fully is perfect Felicity. This in general, is no more than what is delivered to us in Scripture, and was believed by many of the Heathen Philosophers. But the manner of this Fruition requires a more particular Consideration. Much is said by the Schoolmen upon this Subject, whereof, in the first place, I shall give a short and methodical account, and then fix upon the Opinion which I best approve of. The first thing that I observe, is, that 'tis generally agreed upon among them, that this Fruition of God consists in some Operation; and I think with very good Reason. For as by the Objective part of perfect Happiness we understand that which is best and last, and to which all other things are to be referred; So by the Formal part of it must be understood the best and last Habitude of Man toward that best Object, so that the Happiness may both ways satisfy the Appetite, that is, as 'tis the best thing, and as 'tis the Possession, Use, or Fruition of that best thing: Now this habitude whereby the best thing is perfectly possessed, must needs be some Operation, because Operation is the ultimate perfection of every Being. Which Axiom( as Cajetan well observes) must not be so understood as if Operation taken by itself were more perfect than the thing which tends to it, but that every thing with its Operation is more perfect than without it.  
The next thing which I observe, is, that 'tis also farther agreed upon among them, that this Operation wherein our Fruition of God does consist, is an Operation of the Intellectual part, and not of the Sensitive. And this also I take to be very reasonable. First, because 'tis generally received, that the Essence of God cannot be the Object of any of our Senses. But Secondly, Suppose it could, yet since this Operation wherein our perfect Happiness does consist must be the perfectest Operation, and since that of the Intellectual part is more perfect than that of the Sensitive, it follows that the Operation whereby we enjoy God must be that of the Intellectual part only.  
But now whereas the Intellectual part of man( as 'tis opposed to the Sensitive) is double, viz. That of the Understanding, and that of the Will, there has commenced a great Controversy between the Thomists and the Scotists, in which Act or Operation of the Rational Soul the Fruition of God does consist, whether in an Act of the Understanding, or in an Act of the Will. The Thomists will have it consist purely in an Act of the Understanding, which is Vision. The Scotists in Act of the Will, which is Love. I intend not here to launch out into those Voluminous Intricacies and Abstrusities, occasioned by the management of this Argument: It may suffice to tell you, that I think they are both in the extreme, and therefore I shall take the middle way and resolve the perfect Fruition of God partly into Vision and partly into Love. These are the two arms with which we embrace the Divinity, and unite our Souls to the fair one and the good. These I conceive are both so essential to the perfect Fruition of God, that the Idea of it can by no means be maintained if either of them be wanting. For, since God is both supreme Truth and infinite Goodness, he cannot be entirely possessed but by the most clear knowledge and the most ardent love. And besides, since the Soul is happy by her Faculties, her Happiness must consist in the most perfect Operation of each Faculty. For if Happiness did consist formally in the sole Operation of the Understanding( as most say) or in the sole Operation of the Will( as others) the Man would not be completely and in all respects Happy. For how is it possible a Man should be perfectly Happy in loving the greatest good if he did not know it, or in knowing it if he did not love it? And moreover, these two Operations do so mutually tend to the promotion and conservation of one another, that upon this depends the perpetuity and the constancy of our Happiness. For while the Blessed do {αβγδ}, Face to Face contemplate the supreme Truth and the infinite Goodness, they cannot choose but love perpetually; and while they perpetually love, they cannot choose but perpetualy contemplate. And in this mutual reciprocation of the Actions of the Soul consists the perpetuity of Heaven, the circled of Felicity.  
Besides this way of resolving our fruition of God into Vision and Love, there is a Famous Opinion said to be broached by Henricus Gandavensis, who, upon a Supposition that God could not be so fully enjoyed as is required to perfect Happiness, only by the Operations or Powers of the Soul, fancied a certain Illapse whereby the Divine Essence did fall in with, and as it were penetrate the Essence of the Blessed. Which Opinion he endeavours to illustrate by this Similitude. That as a piece of Iron, read hot by reason of the Illapse of the fire into it, appears all over like fire, so the Souls of the Blessed by this Illapse of the Divine Essence into them, shall be all over Divine.  
I think he has scarce any followers in this Opinion, but I am sure he had a leader. For this is no more than what Plato taught before him, as is to be seen in his Discourses about the refusion of the Souls of good men into the Anima Mundi, which is the self-same in other terms with this Opinion. And the Truth of what I affirm may farther appear from an expression of that great Platonist Plotinus,( viz.) that the Soul will then be Happy when it shall depart hence to God, 
Enn. 6. lib. 9. cap. 10.  and as another and no longer her self shall become wholly his, {αβγδ}, having joined her self to him as a Center to a Center.  
That such an intimate Conjunction with God as is here described is possible, seems to me more than credible from the Nature of the Hypostatic Union, but whether our Fruition of God after this Life shall consist in it, none know but those happy Souls who enjoy him, and therefore I shall determine nothing before the time. This only I observe, that should our Fruition of God consist in such an Union or rather Penetration of Essences, that would not exclude but rather infer those Operations of Vision and Love as necessary to Fruition; but on the other hand, there seems no such necessity of this Union to the Fruition, but that it may be conceived entire without it. And therefore why we should multiply difficulties without cause, I see no reason. For my part I should think myself sufficiently happy in the clear, Vision of my Maker, nor should I desire any thing beyond the Prayer of Moses, 
Exod. 33.18.  I beseech thee show me thy Glory.  
For what an infinite Satisfaction, Happiness, and Delight must it needs be to have a clear and intimate perception of that Primitive and Original Beauty, Perfection and Harmony, whereof all that appears fair and excellent either to our Senses or Understandings in this Life is but a faint imitation, a pale Reflection! To see him who is the Fountain of all Being, containing in himself the perfection, not only of all that is, but of all that is possible to be, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, the first and the last, which is, and which was, 
Rev. 1.8.  and which is to come, the Almighty! To see him of whom all Nature is the Image, of whom all the Harmony both of the visible and invisible World is but the echo! To see him, who( as Plato divinely and magnificently expresses it) is {αβγδ}. The immense Ocean of Beauty, which is itself by itself, with itself, uniform, always existing! This certainly will affect the Soul with all the pleasing and ravishing Transports of Love and Desire, Joy and Delight, Wonder and Amazement, together with a settled Acquiescence and Complacency of Spirit only less infinite than the Loveliness that causes it, and the peculiar Complacency of him who rejoices in his own fullness, and the Comprehensions of Eternity. We see how strangely our Sense of Seeing is affencted with the Harmony of Colours, and our sense of Hearing with the Harmony of Sounds, insomuch that some have been too weak for the enjoyment, and have grown mad with the Sublimate of Pleasure. And if so, what then shall we think of the Beatific Vision, the pleasure of which will so far transcend that of the other, as God who is all over Harmony and Proportion exceeds the sweetest Melody of Sounds and Colours, and the perception of the Mind is more vigorous, quick and piercing than that of the Senses? This is perfect Happiness, this is the three of Life which grows in the midst of the Paradise of God, this is Heaven, which while the Learned dispute about, the Good only enjoy. But I shall not venture to Soar any longer in these Heights, I find the Aether too thin here to breath in long, and the Brightness of the Region flashes too strong upon my tender Sense; I shall therefore hasten to descend from the Mount of God, lest I grow giddy with speculation, and lose those Secrets which I have learnt there, the Cabala of Felicity.  
And now,( Sir) I come to consider your Question ( viz.) Wherein the greatest Happiness attainable by Man in this Life does consist. Concerning which, there is as great variety of Opinions among Philosophers, as there is among Geographers about the Seat of Paradise. The Learned Varro reckons up no less than 288 several Opinions about it, and yet notwithstanding the number of Writers who have bequeathed Volumes upon this Subject to Posterity, they seem to have been in the dark in nothing more than in this, and( excepting only a few Platonists, who placed Man's greatest End in the Contemplation of Truth) they seem to have undertaken nothing so unhappily, as when they essayed to writ of Happiness. Some measure their Happiness by the high-tide of their Riches, as the Egyptians did the Fertility of the Year by the increase of the River Nile. Others place it in the Pleasures of sense, others in Honour and Greatness. But these and the like were Men of the common Herd, low grovelling Souls, that either understood not the Dignity of human Nature, or else forgot that they were Men. But there were others of a Diviner Genius and Sublimer Spirit,  Queis meliore luto finxit praecordia Titan. 
Who had a more generous blood running in their Veins, which made them put a just value upon themselves, and scorn to place their greatest Happiness in that which they should blushy to enjoy. And those were the Stoics and the Peripatetics, who both place the greatest Happiness of this Life in the Actions of virtue, with this only difference, that whereas the former are contented with Naked virtue, the latter require some other Collateral things to the farther accomplishment of Happiness, such as are Health and Strength of Body, a Competent livelihood, and the like.  
And this Opinion has been subscribed to by the hands of eminent Moralists in all Ages. And as it is Venerable for its Antiquity, so has it gained no small Authority from the Pen of a great Modern Writer ( Descartes) who resolves the greatest Happiness of this Life into the right use of the Will, which consists in this, that a Man have a firm and constant purpose always to do that which he shall judge to be best.  
I confess, the practise of virtue is a very great instrument of Happiness, and that there is a great deal more true satisfaction and solid content to be found in a constant course of well living, than in all the soft Caresses of the most studied Luxury, or the Voluptuousness of a Seraglio. And therefore I have oftentimes been exceedingly pleased in the reading of a certain Passage in that Divine Moralist Hierocles, where he tells you, that the virtuous Man lives much more pleasantly than the Vicious Man. For( says he) all Pleasure is the Companion of Action, it has no Subsistence of its own, but accompanies us in our doing such and such things. Hence 'tis that the worse Actions are accompanied with the meaner Pleasures. So that the good Man does not only excel the wicked Man in what is good, but has also the advantage of him even in Pleasure, for whose sake alone he is wicked. For he that chooses Pleasure with Filthiness, altho for a while he be sweetly and deliciously entertained, yet at last through the Filthiness, annexed to his Enjoyment, he is brought to a painful Repentance. But now he that prefers virtue with all her Labours and Difficulties, though at first for want of use it sits heavy upon him, yet by the Conjunction of good he alleviates the Labour, and at last enjoys pure and unallay'd Pleasure with his virtue. So that of necessity that Life is most unhappy, which is most wicked, and that most pleasant which is most virtuous.  
Now this I readily submit to as a great truth, that the degrees of Happiness vary according to the degrees of virtue, and consequently that that Life which is most virtuous is most Happy, with reference to those that are Vicious or less virtuous, every degree of virtue having a proportionate degree of Happiness accompanying it,( which is all, I suppose, that excellent Author intends.) But I do not think the most virtuous Life so the most Happy, but that it may become Happier, unless something more be comprehended in the Word( virtue) then the Stoics, Peripatetics, and the generality of other Moralists understand by it. For with them it signifies no more but only such a firm {αβγδ} or habitude of the Will to good, whereby we are constantly disposed, notwithstanding the contrary tendency of our Passions, to perform the necessary Offices of Life. This they call Moral or Civil virtue, and although this brings always Happiness enough with it to make ample amends for all the difficulties which attend the practise of it: Yet I am not of Opinion that the greatest Happiness attainable by Man in this Life consists in it. But there is another and a higher Sense of the Word, which frequently occurs in the Pythagorean and Platonic Writings, ( viz.) Contemplation and the Unitive way of Religion. And this they call Divine virtue. I allow of the distinction, but I would not be thought to derive it from the Principle, as if Moral virtue were acquired, and this infused( for to speak ingeniously, infused virtue seemed ever to me as great a Paradox in Divinity, as Occult qualities in Philosophy) but from the nobleness of the Object, the Object of the former being Moral good, and the Object of the latter God himself. The former is a State of Proficiency, the latter of Perfection. The former is a State of difficulty and contention, the latter of ease and serenity. The former is employed in mastering the Passions, and regulating the actions of common Life, the latter in Divine Meditation and the ecstasies of Seraphic Love. He that has only the former, is like Moses with much difficulty climbing up to the Holy Mount, but he that has the latter, is like the same Person conversing with God on the serene top of it, and shining with the Rays of anticipated Glory. So that this latter supposes the acquisition of the former, and consequently has all the Happiness retaining to the other, besides what it adds of its own. This is the last Stage of human Perfection, the utmost round of the Ladder whereby we ascend to Heaven, one Step higher is Glory. Here then will I build my Tabernacle, for it is good to be here. Here will I set up my Pillar of Rest, here will I fix, for why should I travail on farther in pursuit of any greater Happiness, since Man in this Station is but a little lower than the Angels, one remove from Heaven. Here certainly is the greatest happiness, as well as Perfection attainable by Man in this State of imperfection. For since that Happiness which is absolutely perfect and complete consists in the clear and intimate Vision and most ardent Love of God, hence we ought to take our Measures, and conclude that to be the greatest Happiness attainable in this State, which is the greatest participation of the other. And that can be nothing else but the Unitive way of Religion, which consists of the Contemplation and Love of God. I shall say something of each of these severally, and something of the Unitive way of Religion, which is the result of both, and so shut up this Discourse.  
By Contemplation in general( {αβγδ}) we understand an application of the Understanding to some truth. But here in this place we take the word in a more peculiar sense, as it signifies an habitual, attentive, steady application or conversion of the Spirit to God and his Divine Perfections. Of this the Masters of Mystic Theology commonly make fifteen Degrees. The first is Intuition of Truth, the second is a Retirement of all the Vigour and Strength of the Faculties into the innermost parts of the Soul, the third is Spiritual Silence, the fourth is Rest, the fifth is Union, the sixth is the Hearing of the still Voice of God, the seventh is Spiritual Slumber, the eighth is Ecstacy, the ninth is Rapture, the tenth is the Corporeal Appearance of Christ and the Saints, the eleventh is the Imaginary Appearance of the Same, the twelfth is the Intellectual Vision of God, the thirteenth is the Vision of God in Obscurity, the fourteenth is an admirable Manifestation of God, the fifteenth is a clear and intuitive Vision of him, such as St. Austin and Tho. Aquinas attribute to St. Paul, when he was rapt up into the third Heaven. Others of them reckon seven degrees only, ( viz.) Taste, Desire, Satiety, Ebriety, Security, tranquillity, but the name of the seventh( they say) is known only to God.  
I shall not stand to examine the Scale of this Division, perhaps there may be a kind of a Pythagoric Suporstition in the number. But this I think I may affirm in general, that the Soul may be wound up to a most strange degree of Abstraction by a silent and steady Contemplation of God. Plato desines Contemplation to be {αβγδ}, a Solution and a Separation of the Soul from the Body. And some of the severer Platonists have been of Opinion, that 'tis possible for a Man by more intention of thought not only to withdraw the Soul from all commerce with the Senses, but even really to separate it from the Body, to untwist the Ligaments of his Frame, and by degrees to resolve himself into the State of the Dead. And thus the Jews express the manner of the Death of Moses, calling it Osculum Oris Dei, the Kiss of God's Mouth. That is, that he breathed out his Soul by the more Strength and Energy of Contemplation, and expired in the Embraces of his Maker. A Happy way of Dying! How ambitious should I be of such a conveyance, were it practicable? How passionately should I join with the Church in the Canticles? {αβγδ}, Let him Kiss me with the Kisses of his Mouth. Cant. 1 Ver. 2.  
But however this be determined, certain it is, that there are exceeding great Measures of Abstraction in Contemplation, so great, that sometimes whether a Man be in the Body or out of the Body, he himself can hardly tell. And consequently the Soul in these Praeludiums of Death, these Neighbourhoods of Separation, must needs have brighter glimpses, and more Beatifick Ideas of God, than in a state voided of these Elevations, and consequently must love him with greater Ardency. Which is the next thing I am to consider.  
The love of God in general may be consisidered either as it is purely intellectual, or as it is a Passion. The first is, when the Soul, upon an apprehension of God as a good, delectable, and agreeable Object, joins her self to him by the Will. The latter is, when the motion of the Will is accompanied with a sensible Commotion of the Spirits, and an estuation of the Blood. Some I know are of Opinion, that 'tis not possible for a man to be affencted with this sensitive Love of God, which is a Passion, because there is nothing in God which falls under our imagination, and consequently( the imagination being the only Medium of conveyance) it cannot be propagated from the Intellectual part to the Sensitive. Whereupon they affirm, that none are capable of this sensitive passionate Love of God but Christians, who enjoy the Mystery of the Incarnation, whereby they know God has condescended so far as to cloath himself with Flesh, and to become like one of us. But 'tis not all the Sophistry of the could Logicians that shall work me out of the belief of what I feel and know, and rob me of the sweetest entertainment of my Life, the Passionate Love of God. Whatever some Men pretend, who are Strangers to all the assectionate heats of Religion, and therefore make their Philosophy a Plea for their indevotion, and extinguish all Holy Ardours with a Syllogism; yet I am firmly persuaded, that our love of God may be not only passionate, but even Wonderfully so, and exceeding the Love of Women. 'tis an Experimental and therefore undeniable Truth, that Passion is a great Instrument of Devotion, and accordingly we find, that Men of the most warm and pathetic Tempers and Amorous Complexions( Provided they have but Consideration enough withall to fix upon the right Object) prove the greatest Votaries in Religion. And upon this account it is, that to heighten our Love of God in our Religious Addresses, we endeavour to excite our Passions by Music, which would be to as little purpose as the Fanatic thinks 'tis, if there were not such a thing as the Passionate Love of God. But then as to the Objection, I Answer with the excellent Descartes, that although in God who is the Object of our Love, we can imagine nothing, yet we can imagine that our Love, which consists in this, that we would unite our selves to the Object beloved, and consider our selves as it were a part of it. And the sole Idea of this very Conjunction is enough to stir up a heat about the Heart, and so kindle a very vehement Passion. To which I add, that although the Beauty or Amiableness of God be not the same with that which we see in Corporeal Beings, and consequently cannot directly fall within the Sphere of the imagination, yet it is something Analogous to it, and that very Analogy is enough to excite a Passion. And this I think sufficient to warrant my general division of the Love of God into Intellectual and Sensitive.  
But there is a more peculiar Acceptation of the Love of God proper to this place. And it is that which we call Seraphic. By which I understand in short, that Love of God which is the effect of an intense Contemplation of him. This differs not from the other in kind, but only in degree, and that it does exceedingly, in as much as the thoughtful Contemplative Man( as I hinted before) has clearer Perceptions and livelier Impressions of the Divine Beauty, the lovely Attributes and Perfection of God, than he whose Soul is more deeply set in the Flesh, and lies grovelling in the bottom of the Dungeon.  
That the nature of this Seraphic Love may be the better understood, I shall consider how many degrees there may be in the Love of God. And I think the Computation of Bellarmin, lib. 2. de monachis, cap. 2. is accurate enough. He makes four. The first is to love God proportionably to his Loveliness, that is, with an infinite Love; and this degree is peculiar to God himself. The second is to Love him, not proportionably to his Loveliness, but to the utmost Capacity of a Creature, and this degree is peculiar to Saints and Angels in Heaven. The third is to love him not proportionably to his Loveliness, nor to the utmost capacity of a Creature, absolutely considered, but to the utmost capacity of a Mortal Creature in this Life. And this( he says) is proper to the Religious. The fourth is to love him not proportionably to his Loveliness, nor to the utmost capacity of a Creature, considered either absolutely or with respect to this Life, but only so as to love nothing equally with him or above him. That is, not to do any thing contrary to the Divine Love. And this is absolute indispensible duty, less than which will not qualify us for the enjoyment of God hereafter.  
Now this Seraphic Love which we here discourse of is in the third degree: When a Man, after many degrees of Abstraction from the Animal Life, many a profound and steady Meditation upon the Excellencies of God, sees such a vast Ocean of Beauty and Perfection in him, that he loves him to the utmost stretch of his Power; When he sits under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit is sweet to his taste. Cant. 2.3. When he Consecrates and Devotes himself wholly to him, and has no Passion for inferior Objects. When he is ravished with the delights of his Service, and breaths out some of his Soul to him in every Prayer. When he is delighted with Anthems of Praise and Adoration more than with Marrow and Fatness, and Feasts upon hallelujah. When he melts in a Calenture of Devotion, and his Soul breaketh out with fervent Desire. Psal. 119. When the one thing he delights in is to converse with God in the Beauty of Holiness, and the one thing he desires to see him as he is in Heaven. This is Seraphic Love, and this with Contemplation makes up that which the Mystic Divines style the Unitive way of Religion: It is called so because it Unites us to God in the most excellent manner that we are capable of in this Life. By Union here I do not understand that which is local or presential, because I consider God as Omnipresent. Neither do I mean a Union of Grace( as they call it) whereby we are reconciled to God, or a Union of Charity, whereof it is said, he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God and God in him. Jo. 4.16. The first of these being as common to the inanimate things as to the most Extasi'd Soul upon Earth. And the two last being common to all good men, who indeed love God, but yet want the excellency of Contemplation and the Mystic Union. The Union then which I here speak of, is that which is between the Faculty and the Object. Which consists in some Habitude or Operation of one toward the other. The Faculties here are the Understanding and Will, the Object God, and the Operations Contemplation and Love. The result of which two is the Mystic Union. Which, according to his complex Notion of it that I have here delivered, 
The great Exemplar, pag. 60.  is thus most admirably represented by the excellent Bishop tailor. It is( says he) a Prayer of quietness and silence, and a Meditation extraordinary, a Discourse without variety, a Vision and Intuition of Divine Excellencies, an immediate entry into an Orb of light, and a resolution of all our Faculties into Sweetness, Affections, and Starings upon the Divine Beauty. And is carried on to ecstasies, Raptures, Suspensions, Elevations, Abstractions and Apprehensions beatifical.  
I make no doubt but that many an honest Pious Soul arrives to the heavenly Canaan, who is not fed with this Manna in the Wilderness. But though every one must not expect these Antepasts of Felicity that is virtuous, yet none else must. Paradise was never open but to a State of Innocence. But neither is that enough. No, this Mount of God's Presence is fenced not only from the profane, but also from the moderately virtuous. 'tis the privilege of Angelical Dispositions, and the Reward of eminent Piety and an excellent Religion, to be admitted to these Divine Repasts, these Feasts of love. And here I place the greatest Happiness attainable by Man in this Life, as being the nearest Approach to the State of the Blessed above, the onter Court of Heaven.  
These( Sir) are my thoughts concerning Happiness. I might have spun them out into a greater length, but I think a little Plot of ground thick-sown is better than a great Field which for the most part of it lies Fallow. I have endeavoured to deliver my Notions with as much Perspicuity and in as good Method as I could, and so to answer all the ends of Copiousness, with the advantage of a shorter Cut. If I appear singular in any of my Notions, 'tis not out of an industrious affectation of Novelty, but because in the composing of this discourse( the Meditation of a few broken hours in a Garden) I consulted more my own experimental Notices of things and private Reflections than the Writings of others. So that if sometimes I happen to be in the Road, and sometimes in a way by myself, 'tis no wonder. I affect neither the one nor the other, but writ as I think. Which as I do at other times, so more especially when I subscribe myself  
SIR, Yours most affectionately, J. N. All-Souls college Apr. 18. 1683.   

A Letter of Resolution concerning some Passages in the soregoing Treatise, to the same Person.  
SIR,  
THE kind Entertainment which you gave my Idea of Happiness, does not only encourage, but oblige me to endeavour the satisfaction of that Scruple, which the Perusal of it has occasioned. I cannot but highly commend your searching Curiosity, in desiring farther satisfaction concerning a matter of so sublime and excellent a Nature( for the three of Paradise is good for food, pleasant to the Eye, and a three to be desired to make one wise) tho you must give me leave to wonder that you would not inquire at a better Oracle. But since you are pleased to be of the Opinion, that few have made this Subject so familiar to their Meditation as I have, I cannot with any pretence decline your Request, tho perhaps by my performing it I shall work you into a contrary persuasion.  
Sir, You say you should like my Notion concerning the reality of that which is usually called Imaginary Happiness, that is,( as you well explain both your own and my meaning) that although the Object may be an Imaginary Good, yet the Happiness which consists in the Fruition of that Object, will not be Imaginary too, but real, and consequently, that 'tis impossible for a man to seem to himself to be happy, and not to be really so, all Happiness consisting in Opinion. This Notion, you say, you should like rarely well, could you free yourself from one difficulty which it engages you upon; ( viz.) That hereafter, in the state of Glory, either one Saint shall think himself as happy as another, or not; if not, this must needs occasion Envy or Discontent, but if one shall think himself as happy as another, then, according to my Hypothesis, that Opinion is the Measure of Happiness, 'twill follow that he will really be so; and this brings in Equality of Happiness, which you look upon( and I think justly too) as another absurdity.  
I confess, Sir, this Argument is pretty subtle and surprising, but I conceive the Knots of it may be untied by this Answer. First, it may be justly questioned, whether the first part of your Dilemma be necessary attended with the appendent absurdity. 'tis true indeed, not to think ones self as happy as another, is the Spring of Envy or Discontent among Men in this World, but whether this be the genuine and constant effect of that Consideration, or whether it ought not rather to be ascribed to the present Infirmities and Imperfections of Human Nature, may admit Dispute. But in case this absurdity does inseparably cleave to the first part, then I betake myself to the latter, and affirm, that in Heaven one Saint shall think himself as happy as another. Then, according to my own Notion ( say you) it will follow that he is really so. No, I deny the consequence, the invalidity of which will plainly appear by distinguishing the ambiguity of the Phrase. For this Expression, One Saint thinks himself as happy as another, may be taken in a double sense, either that he thinks himself as happy as he himself thinks that other, or that he thinks himself as happy as that other thinks himself. I grant, should one Saint think himself as happy as another in this latter sense of the Phrase, he would, according to my Hypothesis, really be so; so that this would bring in equality. And therefore in this Sense I deny the Proposition, and that without the least danger of splitting upon the first absurdity. But for the former Sense, that has no such leveling quality, for to say that I think myself as happy as I think another, amounts to no more than this, that in my apprehension another does not exceed me in Happiness: But tho he does not in my apprehension, yet he may in reality, for tho my Opinion gives measures to my own Happiness, yet it does not to another Mans. So that one Saint may be said to think himself as happy as another in the former sense, without equalling the Happiness of the Blessed, tho, I confess, I should much rather adhere to the contrary proposition, ( viz.) that one shall not think himself as happy as another, in case such an Opinion be not necessary attended with Envy or Discontent. Because it seems unreasonable to make them ignorant of the degrees of one anothers Bliss, unless that ignorance be necessary required to prevent the alleged absurdities. But I determine nothing in this point, my business was only to break the force of your Dilemma, and to show that my Notion does not involve you in the difficulty supposed. This, Sir, is all that I think necessary to say to a Person of your apprehension, and therefore I end these nice Speculations with this profitable reflection, that altho the Notion of Happiness be intricate and obscure, yet the means of attaining it are plain, and therefore 'twould be most advisable both for you and me chiefly to apply ourselves to the latter here, and we shall understand the former with the best sort of Knowledge, that of Experience, hereafter.  
Yours J. N.   

Another Letter to the same Person, concerning the true Notion of Plato's Ideas, and of Platonic Love.  
SIR,  
WEre I not as well acquainted with your singular modesty, as I am with your intellectual accomplishments, I should readily conclude, that your directing your inquiries to me proceeded not so much from a Curiosity to improve your own Knowledge, as to try mine. But when I consider that you are ignorant of nothing so much as of your own Worth and Abilities, I begin to think it possible that you may propose these Questions even to me out of a desire to be informed. Which way so ever it is, I aclowledge myself to be obliged to you for affording me an opportunity of serving you, especially in such an Instance, where I cannot gratify your Request without humouring my own Genius at the same time. For indeed to my apprehension, there is not a finer or more Sublime piece of Speculation in all Plato's Philosophy, than that of his Ideas and that of his Love, tho it has protection the same hard Fate with many other excellent Theories, first, to be either ignorantly misunderstood, or maliciously misrepresented, and then popularly vilified and decried.  
To do right therefore to the name of this great Man, as well as to satisfy your Demands, I shall first propose the general mistake, and then rectify it, first present you with the supposed Opinion of Plato, and then with the true and genuine one. I begin with his Ideas, by which 'tis taken for granted by the generality of Writers, especially those of the Peripatetic Order, that he understood universal Natures or abstract Essences subsisting eternally by themselves, Separate both from the mind of God and all singular Beings, according to which, as so many patterns, all Singulars are formed. As for instance, that a Bull, not this or that in particular, but a universal Bull, or a Bull in general, should exist by itself eternally, according to which all particular Bulls were made. Sir, I suppose you can hardly forbear smiling at the odness of the Conceit, but as ridiculous as you may think it, 'tis said to be maintained by no less a Man than Plato, and has been thought of that moment too, that Multitudes of great Men have set themselves very seriously to confute it as a dangerous Heresy, and have opposed it with as much zeal as ever St. Austin did the Manichees or the Pelagians.  
But now, that this Opinion was not only for its Absurdity and Contradictiousness unworthy of the contemplative and refined Spirit of Plato; but was also apparently none of his, I dare say any capable Person will be convinced that shall heedfully and impartially examine and compare the Works of Plato; And this Aristotle himself must needs have known( he having been his constant auditor for twenty years together) but only he wanted a Shadow to fight with, and so fathered this monstrous Opinion upon his Master. And of this disingenuity of Aristotle, together with other abuses, Plato himself complained, while alive, in these words; {αβγδ}, as is recorded by Laertius in the Life of Aristotle.  
And now, that the grossness of this Abuse may the more fully appear, I will in the next place present you with another Sense of Plato's Ideas, and such as by a more than ordinary acquaintance with his Works, I know to be the true and genuine one. Know then that Plato considering the World as an effect of an intellectual Agent, and that in the Operations of all other Artificers or rational Efficients there must be some form in the Mind of the Artificer presupposed to the Work( for otherwise what difference will there be between a fortuitous effect and an intended one, and how comes the effect to be of this Species rather than another?) thought it necessary to suppose {αβγδ}, Eternal Forms, Models or Patterns, of all the Species of being in Nature existing in the Mind of God. And these he calls Ideas. I say existing in the Mind of God, for there is not the least Intimation in all Plato's Works of any such Ideas existing separately from the Divine intellect, nor do the great Masters of Platonic Philosophy, Plotinus, Porphyrius, Procles, or any other that I know of make mention of any such Spectres and Ghosts of Entity. No, this Monster was hatched in Aristotle's Brain, and I believe did never enter Plato's Head so much as in a Dream. For he is not only silent about it, but does in several places expressly assert the contrary; Particularly in his Timaeus, where, of set purpose, he describes the Origin of the World, he says that God made the World according to that Pattern or Idea which he had in his Mind. The same you will find more amply confirmed in his Hippias, his Parmenides, and his sixth Book of Repub. and many other places. And these Ideas he calls {αβγδ}, the first Intelligibles, and {αβγδ}, the Measures of the things that are, implying, that as all things were formed according to these specifical Platforms; so their truth must be measured from their Conformity to them. And in this Sense must be taken that Common Axiom of the Schools, that the Truth of a thing is its Conformity with the Divine Intellect, for it is in no other Sense Intelligible, as you will discern in the Process.  
But now, lest you should imagine, that this Platonic Hypothesis of Ideas existing in the Divine Mind should ill comport with the Simplicity of God, or clash with that approved doctrine of the Schools, Nihil est in Deo quod non sit deus,( which is another cavil of the Antiplatonists) you are to understand that Plato by his Ideas does not mean any real Essence distinct from the Divine Essence, but only the Divine Essence itself with this Connotation, as it is variously imitable or participable by created Beings, and consequently, according to the multifariousness of this imitability, so are the possibilities of Being. Which is as fine a Notion as was ever framed by the Mind of Man, and that it is his, you will find, if you consult his Parmenides. And this will serve to help us out with another difficulty, for whereas Plato makes his Divine Ideas not only the exemplary causes of things, but also( which is a consequent to the former) the measure of their Truth, this may seem to fall in with their Opinion who make all Truth dependant upon the Speculative understanding of God, that is, that God does not understand a thing so because it is so in its own Nature, but that a thing is therefore so because God is pleased so to understand it. Which is an Opinion full of mischief and absurdity, as you may see compendiously, and yet evidently demonstrated, in Dr. Rust's little Discourse of Truth. Now for the clearing this Difficulty, 'tis to be observed, that the Essence of God, according to Plato, is distinguished into {αβγδ} and {αβγδ}, the Counterpart whereof in English is Conceptive and Exhibitive. By the Mind of God Exhibitive is meant the Essence of God as thus or thus imitable or participable by any Creature, and this is the same with an Idea. By the Mind of God Conceptive is meant a reflex act of God's Understanding upon his own Essence as exhibitive, or as thus and thus imitable. Now if you consider the Divine Understanding as Conceptive or Speculative, it does not make its Object but suppose it,( as all Speculative Understanding does) neither is the Truth of the Object to be measured from its Conformity with that, but the Truth of that from its Conformity with its Object. But if you consider the Divine Understanding as Exhibitive, then its Truth does not depend upon its Conformity with the Nature of things, but on the contrary, the Truth of the Nature of things depends upon its Conformity with it. For the Divine Essence is not thus or thus imitable, because such and such things are in being, but such and such things are in being, because the Divine Essence is thus and thus imitable, for had not the Divine Essence been thus imitable, such and such Beings would not have been possible. And thus is Plato to be understood when he founds the Truth of things upon their Conformity with the Divine Ideas, and thus must the Schools mean too by that forementioned Axiom concerning Transcendental Truth, if they will speak Sense, as I noted above.  
And now, Sir, from Plato's Ideas thus amiably set forth, the Transition methinks is very natural to Love. And concerning this I shall account in the same Method, first, by pointing out the popular Misapprehensions about it, and then by exhibiting a true Notion of it. platonic Love is a thing in every bodies Mouth, but I find scarce any that think or speak accurately of it. The mistakes which I observe are chiefly these. Some of the grosser Understanders suppose that Plato by his Love meant {αβγδ}, the Love of Males, but the Occasion of this Conceit was from a passage in his Convivium, where he brings in Aristophanes speaking favourably that way. But he that shall from hence conclude Plato a prostitute to that vile Passion, may as well conclude a Dramatic Poet to be an Atheist or a Whore-master, because he represents those of that Character. But that Divine Plato intended nothing less than to countenance any such thing, is evident from the whole scope and purport of that Dialogue, and from other places where he expressly condemns it, and rejects it with great abhorrence; particularly in the first of his de legibus, where he calls it {αβγδ}, an unnatural attempt. Others by Platonic Love understand the Love of Souls, and this indeed has something of truth in it, only it is much too narrow and particular.  
Others take Platonic Love to be a desire of imprinting any excellency, whether moral or intellectual, in the Minds of beautiful young men by Instruction, and so likewise of enjoying your own Perfections reflected from the Mind of another, mixed with and recommended by the Beauty of the Body. According to the usual saying, Gratior è Pulchro, &c. And thus Socrates was said to love his beautiful Pupils Phaedrus and Alcibiades. Others measure the Nature of Platonic Love, not from the Object( to which they suppose it indifferent) but from the manner of the Act. And according to these, that man is said to love Platonically, that does Casso delectamine amare, love at a distance, that never designs a close fruition of the Object what ever it be, whether Sensual or Intellectual, but chooses to dwell in the Suburbs, pleasing himself with remote Prospects, and makes a mistress of his own Desire. And this is the received Notion, and that which People generally mean when they talk of Platonic Love. But this too is far enough from the right, for tho Platonic love does not aim at the fruition of sensual Objects, yet it designs the fruition of its own Object as much as any other Love does. That therefore which distinguishes platonic love, is not the manner of the act above-mentioned, but the peculiarity of the Object. And what that is must be collected from the Design of Plato in that Dialogue, where he treats purposely of it, his Convivium. Which is briefly to show the manner of the Souls ascent to God by love. For Plato makes the Happiness of Man to consist in the Contemplation and Love of God, whom he calls the Idea of Beauty. But now because this Idea of Beauty( God) is of too sublime and refined excellency to be immediately fastened upon by our Love, he recommends to us {αβγδ}, a Method of Ascent, which is from loving the Beauty we see in Bodies, to pass on to the Love of the Beauty of the Soul, from the Beauty of the Soul to the Beauty of virtue, and lastly from the Beauty of virtue, {αβγδ}, to the immense Ocean of Beauty, &c. For so have I observed a tender Infants Eye not enduring to gaze directly upon the too powerful Excellence of the Meridian Sun, choose to entertain itself with the abatements of corrected and reflected Light, and take up with the feebler refreshments of lesser Beauties for a while, till at length the faculty grows more confirmed, and dares encounter the Sun in his Strength. And these are the Steps of the Sanctuary. So that Platonic Love is the Love of Beauty abstracted from all sensual Applications, and desire of corporal contract, as it leads us on to the Love of the first original Beauty, God; or more plainly thus, The Ascent of the Soul to the Love of the Divine Beauty, by the Love of abstracted Beauty in Bodies. This Love of abstracted Beauty in Bodies he calls {αβγδ}, Celestial Love, in opposition to that which he calls {αβγδ}, which is the same with that Passion commonly fignifi'd by the name of Love, ( viz.) a desire of corporal contact arising from the sight of Beauty. This last indeed is a very vile, brutish, unmanly affection, and such as considering the vileness of our Bodies, one would think a man could never be charmed into without the Magic of a Love-potion. But the former is an Angelical Affection, for certainly Beauty is a Divine thing; It is( as the Platonic Author says of Wisdom) the pure Influence flowing from the Glory of the Almighty, and the Brightness of the Everlasting Light: or in Plato's own Words, A Ray of God. And therefore the Love of abstract Beauty must needs be a very generous and divine Affection. Sir, I could be more large in my account, but I consider what 'tis I writ, and to whom, and therefore I think it high time to remit you to your own Thoughts, some of which I hope will be, that I am in a very eminent degree of Friendship,  
Yours J. Norris. From my Study in All-Souls college.   
FINIS.  

Advertisement of the author.  
WHEREAS it has been given out by several, and is by many still believed, that a certain Book entitled Haec Et Hic, was written by me, I do here publicly disown it. And to those that will not take my word for it, I have this only farther to say, that if they are tolerable Judges of Sense, or have any thing of taste in distinguishing Stiles, they will find upon Comparison, that there is not a Line in that Book like any Composition of mine. But if not, their good Opinion will be over-bought at the expense of a Postscript.   

ERRATA.  
page. 29. for decipere red desipere. Pag. 30. for quantum red quantam. Pag, 31. for quot red quod, Pag. 32. for janique red jamque. ibid. for cord red Corda. Pag. 45. for learned red learned. Pag. 46. for learned red learned.   

Books set forth by the Author of these Poems and Discourses. viz.  
1. EFFIGIES Amoris, or the Picture of Love unveiled, in English, twelves.  
2. A Meditation of Life and Death, out of the learned Eusebius, in English, octavo.  
3. Hierocles upon the Golden Verses of the Pythagoreans, in English, octavo.  
4. A Tract against the absolute Decree of Reprobation, Latin, octavo.