<B7r>
TO THE READER,
Upon the first Canto of
PSYCHOZOIA.
THis first Canto, as you may judge by the names therein, was intended for a mere Platonicall description of Universall life, or life that is omnipresent, though not alike omnipresent. As in Noahs Deluge, the water that overflowed the earth was present in every part thereof, but every part of the water was not in every part of the earth, or all in every part; so the low Spirit of the Universe, though it go quite through the world, yet it is not totally in every part of the world; Else we should heare our Antipodes, if they did but whisper: Because our lower man is a part of the inferiour Spirit of the Universe.
Ahad, Æon, and Psyche are all omnipresent in the World, after the most perfect way that humane reason can conceive of. For they are in the world all totally and at once every where.
This is the famous Platonicall Triad: which though they that slight the Christian Trinity do take for a figment; yet I think it is no contemptible argument, that the Platonists, the best and divinest of Philosophers, and the Christians, the best of all that do professe religion, do both concur that there is a Trinity. In what they differ, I leave to be found out according to the safe direction of that infallible Rule of Faith, the holy Word.
In the mean time I shall not be blamed by any thing but ignorance and malignity, for being invited to sing of the second Unity of the Platonicall Triad, in a Christian <B7v> and Poeticall scheme, that which the holy Scripture witnesseth of the second Person of the Christian Trinity. As that his patrimony is the possession of the whole earth. For if it be not all one with Christ, according to his Divinity; yet the Platonists placing him in the same order, and giving him the like attributes, with the Person of the Sonne in Christianity, it is nothing harsh for me to take occasion from hence to sing a while the true Christian Autocalon, whose beauty shall adorn the whole Earth in good time; if we believe the Prophets. For that hath not as yet happened. For Christ is not where ever his Name is: but as he is the Truth, so will he be truely displayed upon the face of the whole Earth. For God doth not fill the World with his Glory by words and sounds, but by Spirit, and Life, and Reality.
Now this Eternall life I sing of, even in the middest of Platonisme: for I cannot conceal from whence I am, viz. of Christ; but yet acknowledging, that God hath not left the Heathen, Plato especially, without witnesse of himself. Whose doctrine might strike our adulterate Christian Professors with shame & astonishment; their lives falling so exceeding short of the better Heathen. How far short are they then of that admirable and transcendent high mystery of true Christianisme? To which Plato is a very good subservient Minister; whose Philosophy I singing here in a full heat; why may it not be free for me to break out into an higher strain, and under it to touch upon some points of Christianity; as well as all-approved Spencer, sings of Christ under the name of Pan? Saint Paul also transfers those things that be spoken of Jupiter, to God himself, Arat. φαινόμενα.
Πάντῃ δὲ Διὸς κεχρήμεθα πάντες.
Τοῦ γὰρ καὶ γένος ἐσμέν.
Those latter words he gives to the Christian God, whom <B8r> he himself preached. I will omit the usuall course of the Spirit of God in Holy Writ, to take occasion from things that have some resemblance with Divine things under them to speak of the true things themselves.
And that I may not seem rather forcibly to break out here out of Platonisme into Christianisme, then to be fairly and easily led into this digression by the fit similitude of things, or at least very near correspondency of Names, which should imply agreement of nature; I have thought good to exhibite to the Readers eye the grounds of this my deviation founded in this Parallelisme of Titles, belonging to the second Unity of each Triad.
| Platonic. | Christian. | |
| The Sonne of the Good. | 1 | The Sonne of God. |
| Τὸ ἀυτοκαλὸν, τὸ φῶς. [τὸ γὰρ εἷδος φῶς.. Plotin. | 2 | Ἀπάυγασμα τῆς δόξης τοῦ πατρός. |
| Λὸγος & εἶδος | 3 | Λὸγος. John 1. |
| Ἰδέα | 4 | Ἡ ἀλήθεια |
| Ὁ νοῦς, ἡ σοφία | 5 | Ἡ σοφία. Proverbs. 8. |
| Æon | 6 | Eternall Life. |
| Τὸ ὂν, ἡ ἀληθινὴ σοφία οὐσία καὶ ἡ ἀληθινὴ οὐσία σοφία.. Plot. p. 547 | 7 | Ὁ ὢν καὶ ὁ ἦν καὶ ὁ ἐρχόμενος. or יהוה |
For indeed the Greek ὁ ἦν καὶ ὁ οὖν καὶ ὁ ἐρχόμενος is but a Periphrasis of יְהֹוָה which contains in י וֹ הָ the future present, and time past, as Criticks observe.
I might adde further correspondencies betwixt the Platonick Triad, and diverse passages of Scripture according to the interpretations of no contemptible Authours. As Gods making the World by his Word, which is very reasonable, He being the wisedome of God or the Intellectuall World; the Idea of the visible and naturall Creature. And that he is the Redeemer of the laps'd World, viz. Mankind, while he reduceth the right shape and image again into Man, wisedome and righteousnesse.
Take in the whole Trinity, you shall find a strange con <B8v> cordance and harmony betwixt the nature of each Hypostasis in either in their order. Atove or Ahad, is simply the first Principle of all beings, the Father of all existences, and the Universall Creation is but his Family; and therefore hath he a full right of imposing Lawes on the whole Creature.
θεμιστέυει δὲ ἕκαστος
Παίδων ἠδ' ἀλόχων. As Aristotle observes out of the Poet.
The naturall Creature (as David also bears them witnesse) keepeth this Law. But Man breaketh it: however the Law is still propounded to him, which when it doth take hold upon him, strikes him with dread and horrour. Hence will he extrinsecally shape and proportion his actions according to that outward Rule through fear and force as it were: As if a man should impresse any character, or stamp upon wax, paste, or any such like matter. And this I conceive is to be under the Law that makes nothing perfect, and may be called φώτισμα τοῦ νόμου. which is signified also by Diana in the third Canto of Psychozoia. This God vouchsafes sometime to second with the gift of his Sonne, who is ὁ ὀρθὸς θεοῦ λόγος πρωτόγοντος υιὸς, as Philo the Platonist calls him. He once come sits not so much on the surface of the soul, as dives and divides to the depth of the Spirit, and rooting himself there worketh out from the very bottome all corruption and filth, cleanseth us throughly from our sins, and healeth us of our infirmities, shapes us from an inward vitall Principle, (even as the Ratio seminalis figures out a tree) into a new life and shape, even into the Image of God; that is, inward living Righteousnesse and Truth, instructing us continually, and guiding us with his eye: For he is properly Wisedome and Intellect. And this may be term'd φωτισμα τοῦ λόγου. even of the Sonne of Righteousnesse. See Philo Judaeus, pag. 390.391.403, 407. as also in his περὶ τοῦ Κάïν. pag. 76.
<C1r>
Of this λόγος Trismegist calling him νοῦς, writeth thus, οὗτος δὲ ὁ νοῦς ἐν μὲν ἀνθρώποις θεός ἐστι διὸ καὶ τινες τῶν ἀνθρώπων θεοί εὶσι. The same which John intimates: As many as receive him become the sons of God. And a little after, he tells us that this Universall Intellect as it doth συνεργεῖν cooperate with all things; so it doth also ἀντιπράσσειν, resist and oppose the souls of men hurried on to pleasure and passion by this disadvantagious union with the body. Ὅσαις ἂν οὖν ψυχαῖς ὁ νοῦς ἐπιστατήσῃ, ταύταις φαίνει ἑαυτοῦ τὸ φέγγος, ἀντιπράσσων αὐτῶν τοῖς προλήμμασιν, ὥσπερ ἰατρὸς ἀγαθὸς λυπεῖ τὸ σῶμα προειλημμένον ὑπὸ νόσου, καίων ἢ τέμνων· τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον καὶ ὁ νοῦς ψυχὴν λυπεῖ ἐξυφαιρῶν αὐτὴς τὴν ἡδονὴν ἀφ' ἧς πᾶσα νόσος ψυχῆς γίνεται· νόσος δὲ μεγάλη ψυχῆς ἀθεότης.. Trismeg. περὶ νοῦ κοινοῦ πρὸς Τὰτ.
But now being thus healed, purged, and illuminated by this Baptisme of the living Word or Intellect, which is Christ, we are no longer under the Law, nor the terrour thereof, but serve willingly, as from a vitall Principle in us, under Christ. Wherefore such ones as are thus eminently good and virtuous in themselves, even according to the judgement of Aristotle, Politic. lib. 3. are not under the Law. Κατὰ τῶν τοιούτων οὐκ ἔστι νόμος, αὐτοὶ γάρ ἐισι νόμος. Against such there is no Law, for they themselves are a Law. The very same with the words of the Apostle. Gal. cap. 5. vers. 24. Rom. 2. vers. 14.15. And a little before, Ὥσπερ γὰρ θεὸν ἐν ἀνθρώποις εἰκὸς τὸν τοιοῦτον and therefore not to be under the Law, no more then a Deity can be under their Law, Παραπλήσιον γὰρ, κἂν εἰ τοῦ Διὸς ἄρχειν ἀξιοῖεν, μερίζοντες ἀρχάς. For 'tis as if they should take upon them to rule Jupiter himself, and share his kingdome. See Aristol. Politic. lib. 3.
The last accomplishment of all, and the highest perfection as the Apostle witnesseth, is Love, and this is ever referr'd to the Holy Ghost, whom Peter Lombard contends to be Love, lib. 1. distinct, 17. And this agrees ad <C1v> amussim with Uranore or Psyche, whom Plotinus calls οὐρανίαν ἀφροδιτην the celestiall Venus, out of which is born the heavenly Cupid, the divine Love. The same is also Juno the sister and wife of Jove; that is, of the Divine Intellect, as the same Philosopher observes. And the Greek name of Juno doth fitly agree to this purpose, viz. Ἥρα, παρὰ τοῦ ἐραν, her name implying Love. And a further signe that Juno and Venus are all one is that Astronomers have noted one and the same Starre by both their names. Μεθ' ὃν ὁ τοῦ φωσφόρου, ὃν Ἀφροδίτης οἱ δὲ Ἥρας προσταγορεύουσιν. Aristot. de Mundo, See Plotin. Ennead. lib. 6.
So then the proper effect of this third Hypostasis in either Trinity is Love, which compleateth the Circle, and reduceth us again to the first Principle of all, the simple and absolute good which we enjoy by this single Act or Energie of the Soul, viz. divine Love: and this is φώτισμα τοῦ πνεύματος, to be baptized with the Holy Ghost.
This trinall effect or spirituall influence on the Soul is experientially true: But this threefold Hypostasis, viz. Ahad, Æon, and Psyche, cannot be known by experience, but is rather concluded by collection of reason. Nor indeed is reason it self able sufficiently to confirm or confute it, sith it can conceive that one single Essence can perform many and various functions as doth the Soul, that being one, unfolds her self into varieties of operations.
Yet have the Platonists established their Triad upon no contemptible grounds which I will not be so tedious as here to relate: but give the Reader leave to peruse Plotinus at his leisure. And I must confesse that that mystery seems to me a thing of it self, standing on its own Basis, and to happen rather to agree with some Principles of Christianisme, then to be drawn from the holy Scripture.
But the best is, that the happinesse of man is not the Essence, but the Influence of the Divinity; and to be bap <C2r> tized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, of more consequence then to read and understand all the curious and acute school-tracts of the Trinity. For this may be permitted to the Divel: that is the priviledge onely of the good and pious man. Nor is it any wonder at all.
For be it so that the contemplation of these things is very sublime and subtile, yet well I wot they are nothing satisfactory to the soul. For the exile Theories of the Infinity of God and Trinity, are but as it were the dry measuring and numbering of the Deity, and profit as much to the soul devoid of charity, as the Diametre of the Sunnes body, or the remembrance of that trinall property in Lux Lumen and Calefaction can warm a man in a cold frosty night.
But if any man would be sufficiently initiated into these mysteries, he must repair to the ever living Word of God, that subtile and searching fire, that will sift all the vanities of dreaming Philosophers, and burn up the vain {i}maginations of false-Christians like stubble.
All this out of a tendernesse of mind, being exceeding {l}oth to give any man offence by my writings, For though knowledge and theory be better then any thing but honesty and true piety, yet it is not so good as that I should willingly offend my neighbour by it.
Thus much by way of preparation to the first Canto of this Poem. I will now leave thee to thine own discresion, and judgement.
Vpon the second Canto.
THis second Canto, before we descend to particular lives, exhibits to our apprehension, by as fit a similitude as I could light upon, the Universe, as one simple <C2v> uniform being from Ahad to Hyle, no particular straitned being as yet being made; no earth or any other Orb as yet kned together. All homogeneall, simple, single, pure, pervious, unknotted, uncoacted, nothing existing but those eight universall orders.
There God hath full command, builds and destroyes what he lists.
That all our souls are free effluxes from his essence. What follows is so plain that the Reader wants no direction,
Vpon the third Canto.
THere is no knot at all in this last Canto, if men do not seek one. I plainly and positively declare no opinion, but shew the abuse of those opinions there touched, crouding a number of enormities together; that easily shroud themselves there, where all sinfulnesse surely may easily get harbour, if we be not yet well aware of the Devil, that makes true opinions oftentimes serve for mischief.
Nothing else can be now expected for the easie and profitable understanding of this Poem, but the interpretation of the names that frequently occurre in it. Which I will interpret at the end of these Books; (as also the hard terms of the other Poems) for their sakes whose real worth and understanding is many times equall with the best, onely they have not fed of husks and shels, as others have been forced to do, the superficiary knowledge of tongues. But it would be well, that neither the Linguist would contemne the illiterate for his ignorance, nor the ignorant condemn the learned for his knowledge, For it is not unlearnednesse that God is so pleased withall, or sillinesse and emptinesse of mind, but singlenesse and simplicity of heart.
<1>
The Argument of
PSYCHOZOIA,
Or
The life of the Soul.
Cant. I.
This Song great Psyches parentage
With her fourefold array,
And that mysterious marriage,
To th{e} Reader doth display.
1
NO Ladies loves, nor Knights brave martiall deeds,
Ywrapt in rolls of hid Antiquitie;
But th' inward Fountain, and the unseen Seeds,
From whence are these and what so under eye
Doth fall, or is record in memorie,
Psyche, I'll sing Psyche{!} from thee they sprong.
O life of Time, and all Alterity!
The life of lives instill his n{e}ctar strong,
My soul t' inebriate, while I sing Psyches song.
2
But thou, who e're thou art that hear'st this strain,
Or read'st these rythmes which from Platonick rage
Do powerfully flow forth, dare not to blame
My forward pen of foul miscarriage;
If all that's spoke, with thoughts more sadly sage
Doth not agree. My task is not to try
What's simply true. I onely do engage
My self to make a fit discovery,
Give some fair glimpse of Plato's hid Philosophy.
<2>
3
What man alive that hath but common wit
(When skilfull limmer 'suing his intent
Shall fairly well pourtray and wisely hit
The true proportion of each lineament,
And in right colours to the life depaint
The fulvid Eagle with her sun-bright eye)
Would wexen wroth with inward choler brent
Cause 'tis no Buzard or discolour'd Pie?
Why man? I meant it not: Cease thy fond obloquie.
4
So if what's consonant to Plato's school
(Which well agrees with learned Pythagore,
Egyptian Trismegist, and th' antique roll
Of Chaldee wisdome, all which time hath tore
But Plato and deep Plotin do restore)
Which is my scope, I sing out lustily:
If any twitten me for such strange lore,
And me all blamelesse brand with infamy,
God purge that man from fault of foul malignity.
5
Th' Ancient of dayes, Sire of Eternitie,
Sprung of himself, or rather no wise sprong:
Father of lights and everlasting glee,
Who puts to silence every daring tongue
And flies man's sight, shrowding himself among
His glorious rayes, good Atove, from whom came
All good that Penia spies in thickest throng
Of most desireables, all's from that same,
That same, that Atove hight, and sweet Abinoam.
6
Now can I not with flowring phantasie
To drowsie sensuall souls such words impart,
Which in their sprights, may cause sweet agony,
And thrill their bodies through with pleasing dart,
And spread in flowing fire their close-twist heart,
All chearing fire, that nothing wont to burn
That Atove lists to save; and his good Art
Is all to save that wi{l}l to him return,
That all to him return, nought of him is forlorn:
<3>
7
For what can be forlorn, when his good hands
Hold all in lise, that of life do partake?
O surest confidence of Loves strong bands!
Love loveth all that's made; Love all did make:
And when false life doth fail, it's for the sake
Of better being. Riving tortures spight,
That life disjoynts, and makes the heart to quake,
To good the soul doth nearer reunite:
So ancient Atove hence all-joyning Ahad hight.
8
This Ahad of himself the Æon fair
Begot, the brightnesse of his father's grace:
No living wight in heav'n to him compare,
Ne work his goodly honour such disgrace,
Nor lose thy time in telling of his race.
His beauty and his race no man can tell:
His glory darkeneth the Sunnes bright face;
Or if ought else the Sunnes bright face excell,
His splendour would it dim, and all that glory quell.
9
This is that ancient Eidos omniform,
Fount of all beauty, root of flowring glee.
Hyle old hag, foul, filthy, and deform,
Cannot come near. Joyfull Eternity
Admits no change or mutability,
No shade of change, no imminution,
No nor increase; for what increase can be
To that that's all? and where Hyl' hath no throne
Can ought decay? such is the state of great Æon.
10
Farre otherwise it fares in this same Lond
Of Truth and Beauty, then in mortall brood
Of earthly lovers, who impassion'd
With outward forms (not rightly understood
From whence proceeds this amorous sweet flood,
And choice delight which in their spright they feel:
Can outward Idole yield so heavenly mood?)
This inward beauty unto that they deal
That little beauteous is: Thus into th' dirt they reel.
<4>
11
Like to Narcissus, on the grassie shore,
Viewing his outward face in watery glasse;
Still as he looks, his looks adde evermore
New fire, new light, new love, new comely grace
To's inward form; and it displayes apace
It's hidden rayes, and so new lustre sends
To that vain shadow: but the boy, alas!
Unhappy boy! the inward nought attends,
But in foul filthy mire, love, life, and form he blends.
12
And this I wot is the Souls excellence,
That from the hint of every painted glance
Of shadows sensible, she doth from hence
Her radiant life, and lovely hue advance
To higher pitch, and by good governance
May wained be from love of fading light
In outward forms, having true Cognizance,
That those vain shows are not the beauty bright
That takes men so, but what they cause in humane spright.
13
Farre otherwise it fares in Æons Realm.
O happy close of sight and that there's seen!
That there is seen is good Abinoam,
Who Atove hight: And Atuvus I ween,
Cannot be lesse then he that sets his eyen
On that abysse of good eternally,
The youthfull Æon, whose fair face doth shine
While he his Fathers glory doth espy,
Which waters his fine flowring forms with light from high.
14
Not that his forms increase, or that they die:
For Æon-land, which men Idea call,
Is nought but life in full serenity,
Vigour of life is root, stock, branch, and all;
Nought here increaseth, nought here hath it's fall:
For Æons Kingdomes alwayes perfect stand,
Birds, Beasts, Fields, Springs, Plants, Men and Minerall
To perfectnesse nought added be there can.
This Æon also hight Autocalon and On.
<5>
15
This is the eldest sonne of Hattove hore:
But th' eldest daughter of this aged Sire,
That virgin wife of Æon, Uranore.
She Uranora hight, because the fire
Of Æthers essence she with bright attire,
And inward unseen golden hew doth dight,
And life of sense and phansie doth inspire.
Æther's the vehicle of touch, smell, sight,
Of taste, and hearing too, and of the plastick might.
16
Whilome me chanced (O my happy chance!)
To spie this spotlesse pure fair Uranore:
I spi'd her, but, alas! with slighter glance
Beheld her on the Atuvaean shore.
She stood the last; for her did stand before
The lovely Autocal. But first of all
Was mighty Atove, deeply covered o're
With unseen light. No might imaginall
May reach that vast profunditie.
17
Whiles thus they stood by that good lucid spring
Of living blisse, her fourefold ornament
I there observ'd; and that's the onely thing
That I dare write with due advisement.
Fool-hardy man that purposeth intent
Far 'bove his reach, like the proud Phaeton,
Who clomb the fiery car and was ybrent
Through his fond juvenile ambition;
Th' unruly slundring steeds wrought his confusion.
18
Now rise, my Muse, and straight thy self addresse
To write the pourtraiture of th' outward vest,
And to display it's perfect comlinesse:
Begin and leave where it shall please thee best.
Nor do assay to tell all, let the rest
Be understood. For no man can unfold
The many plicatures so closely prest
At lowest verge. Things 'fore our feet yrold,
If they be hard, how shall the highest things be told?
<6>
19
Its unseen figure I must here omit:
For thing so mighty vast no mortall eye
Can compasse; and if eye not compasse it,
The extreme parts, at least some, hidden lie:
And if that they lie hid, who can descry
The truth of figure? Bodies figured
Receive their shape from each extremity.
But if conjecture may stand in truths stead
The garment round or circular I do aread.
20
As for it's colour and materiall,
It silken seems, and of an azure hiew,
If hiew it have or colour naturall:
For much it may amaz{e} mans erring view.
Those parts the eye is near give not the shew
Of any colour; but the rurall Swains,
O easie ignorance! would swear 'tis blew,
Such as their Phyllis would, when as she plains
Their Sunday cloths, and the washt white with azure stains.
21
But this fair azure colour's fouly stain'd
By base comparison with that blew dust.
But you of Uranore are not disdain'd,
O silly Shepherds, if you hit not just
In your conceits, so that you'r put in trust
You duly do attend. If simple deed
Accord with simple life, then needs you must
From the great Uranore of favour speed,
Though you cannot unfold the nature of her weed.
22
For who can it unfold, and reade aright
The divers colours, and the tinctures fair,
Which in this various vesture changes write
Of light, of duskishnesse, of thick, of rare
Consistences: ever new changes marre
Former impressions. The dubious shine
Of changeable silk stuffs, this passeth farre.
Farre more variety, and farre more fine,
Then interwoven silk with gold or silver twine.
<7>
23
Lo what delightfull immutations
On her soft flowing vest we contemplate!
The glory of the Court, their fashions,
And brave agguize with all their Princely state,
Which Poets or Historians relate
This farre excels, farther than pompous Court
Excels the homeliest garb of Countrey rate:
Unspeakable it is how great a sort
Of glorious glistring showes in it themselves disport.
24
There you may see the eyelids of the Morn
With lofty silver arch displaid {i}th' East,
And in the midst the burnisht gold doth burn;
A lucid purple mantle in the West
Doth close the day, and hap the Sun at rest.
Nor doth these lamping she{w}es the azur quell,
Or other colours: where't beseemeth best
There they themselves dispose; so seemly well
Doth light and changing tinctures deck this goodly veil.
25
But 'mongst these glaring glittering rows of light,
And flaming Circles, and the grisell gray,
And crudled clouds, with filver tippings dight.
And many other deckings wondrous gay,
As Iris and the Halo, there doth play
Still-pac'd Euphrona in her Conique tire;
By stealth her steeple-cap she doth assay
To whelm on th'earth: So School-boyes do aspire
With coppell'd hat to quelme the Bee all arm'd with ire.
26
I saw pourtrai'd on this sky coloured silk
Two lovely Lads, with wings fully dispread
Of silver plumes, their skins more white then milk,
Their lilly limbs I greatly admired,
Their cheary looks and lusty lively bed:
Athwart their snowy brest, a scarf they wore
Of azur hew; fairly bespangeled
Was the gold fringe. Like Doves so forth they fore:
Some message they, I ween, to Monocardia bore.
<8>
27
O gentle Sprights, whose carefull oversight
Tends humane actions, sons of Solyma.
O heavenly Salems sons! you fend the right,
You violence resist, and fraud bewray;
The ill with ill, the good with good you pay.
And if you list to mortall eye appear,
You thick that veil, and so your selves array
With visibility: O myst'ry rare!
That thickned veile should maken things appear more bare!
28
But well I wot that nothing's bare to sense,
For sense cannot arrive to th' inwardnesse
Of things, nor penetrate the crusty fence
Of constipated matter close compresse:
Or that were laid aside, yet nathelesse
Things thus unbar'd, to sense be more obscure.
Therefore those sonnes of Love when they them dresse
For sight, they thick the vest of Uranure,
And from their centre overflow't with beauty pure.
29
Thus many goodly things have been unfold
Of Uranures fair changing ornament:
Yet farre more hidden lye as yet untold;
For all to tell was never my intent,
Neither all could I tell if I so meant.
For her large robe all the wide world doth fill:
It's various largenesse no man can depaint:
My pen's from thence, my Book my Ink; but skill
From Uranures own self down gently doth distill.
30
But yet one thing I saw that I'll not passe,
At the low hem of this large garment gay
Number of goodly balls there pendent was,
Some like the Sun, some like the Moones white ray,
Some like discoloured Tellus, when the day
Discries her painted coat: In wondrous wise
These coloured ones do circle, float and play,
As those farre shining Rounds in open skies:
Their course the best Astronomer might well aggrize.
<9>
31
These danc't about: but some I did espie
That steddy stood, 'mongst which there shined one,
More fairly shineth not the worlds great eye,
Which from his plenteous store unto the Moon
Kindly imparteth light, that when he's gone,
She might supply his place, and well abate
The irksome uglinesse of that foul drone,
Sad heavie Night, yet quick to work the fate
Of murd'red travellers, when they themselves belate.
32
O gladsome life of sense that doth adore
The outward shape of the worlds curious frame!
The proudest Prince that ever Sceptre bore
(Though he perhaps observeth not the same)
The lowest hem doth kisse of that we name
The stole of Uranore, these parts that won
To drag in dirty earth (nor do him blame)
These doth he kisse: why should he b{e} fordone?
How sweet it is to live! what joy to see the S{u}nne!
33
But O what joy it is to see the Sun
Of Æons kingdomes, and th' eternall Day
That never night o'retakes! the radiant throne
Of the great Queen, the Queen Uranura!
Then she gan first the Scepter for to sway,
And rule with wisdome, when Atuvus old,
Hence Ahad we him call, did tie them tway
With nuptiall charm and wedding-ring of gold:
Then sagely he the case gan to them thus unfold:
34
My first born Sonne, and thou my D{a}ughter dear,
Look on your aged Sire, the deep abysse,
In which and out of which you first appear;
I Ahad hight, and Ahad onenesse is:
Therefore be one (his words do never misse)
They one became. I Hattove also hight,
Said he; and Hattove goodnesse is and blisse:
Therefore in goodnesse be ye fast unite:
Let Unity, Love, Good, be measures of your might.
<10>
35
They straight accord: {t}hen he put on the ring,
The ring of lasting gold on Uranure;
Then gan the youthfull lads aloud to sing,
Hymen! O Hymen! O the Virgin pure!
O holy Bride! long may this joy indure.
After the song Atove his speech again
Renews. My Son, I unto thee assure
All judgement and authority soveraign
He spake as unto one: for one became those twain.
36
To thee each knee in Heaven and Earth shall bow,
And whatsoever wons in darker cell
Under the Earth: If thou thy awfull brow
Contract, those of the Æthiopian hell
Shall lout, and do thee homage; they that dwel
In Tharsis, Tritons fry, the Ocean-god,
Iim and Ziim, all the Satyres fell
That in {e}mpse Ilands maken their abode:
All those and all things else shall tremble at thy rod.
37
Thy rod thou shalt extend from sea to sea,
And thy Dominion to the worlds end;
All Kings shall vow thee faithfull fealty,
Then peace and truth on all the earth I'll send:
Nor moody Mars my metalls may mispend,
Of Warlike instruments they plow-shares shall
And pruning hooks efform. All things shall wend
For th' best, and thou the head shalt be o're all.
Have I not sworn thee King? true King Catholicall!
38
Thus farre he spake, and then again respired;
And all this time he held their hand in one;
Then they with chearfull look one thing desired,
That he nould break this happy union:
I happy union break? quoth he anon:
I Ahad? Father of Community?
Then they: That you nould let your hand be gone
Off from our hands: He grants with smiling glee:
So each stroke struck on earth is struck from these same three.
<11>
39
These three are Ahad, Æon, Uranore:
Ahad these three in one do{t}h counite.
What so is done on earth the self same power
(Which is exert upon each mortall wight)
Is joyntly from all these But she that hight
Fair Uranore, men also Psy{c}he call.
Great Psyche men and A{n}g{e}ls dear delight,
Invested in her stole æthereall,
Which though so high it be, do{w}n to the earth doth fall.
40
The externall form of this large flowing stole,
My Muse so as she might above displaid:
But th' inward triple golden film to unroll,
Ah! he me teach that triple film hath made,
And brought out light out of the deadly shade
Of darkest Chaos, and things that are seen
Made to appear out of the gloomy glade
Of unseen beings: Them we call unseen,
Not that they're so indeed, but so to mortall eyen.
41
The first of these fair films, we Physis name.
Nothing in Nature did you ever spy,
But there's pourtraid: all beasts both wild and tame,
Each bird is here, and every buzzing fly;
All forrest-work is in this tapestry:
The Oke, the Holm, the Ash, the Aspine tree,
The lonesome Buzzard, th' Eagle, and the Py,
The Buck, the Bear, the Boar, the Hare, the Bee,
The Brize, the black-arm'd Clock, the Gnat, the Butterflie.
42
Snakes, Adders Hydraes, Dragons, Toads, and Frogs,
Th' own-litter-loving Ape, the Worm, and Snail,
Th'undaunted Lion, Horses, Men, and Dogs,
Their number's infinite, nought doth't avail
To reckon all, the time would surely fail:
And all besprinkled with centrall spots,
Dark little spots, is this hid inward veil:
But when the hot bright dart doth pierce these knots,
Each one dispreads it self according to their lots.
<12>
43
When they dispread themselves, then gins to swell
Dame Psyches outward vest, as th' inward wind
Softly gives forth, full softly doth it well
Forth from the centrall spot; yet as confin'd
To certain shape, according to the mind
Of the first centr{e}, not perfect circ'lar-wise,
It shoots it self: for so the outward kind
Of things were lost, and Natures good device
Of different forms would hidden{ly} in one agguize.
44
But it according to the imprest Art
(That Arts impression's from; Idea-Lond)
So drives it forth before it every part
According to true Symmetry: the bond
And just precinct (unlesse it be withstond)
It alwayes keeps. But that old Hag that hight
Foul Hyle mistresse of the miry strond,
Oft her withstands, and taketh great delight
To hinder Physis work, and work her all despight.
45
The self same envious witch with poyson'd dew,
From her foul eben-box, all tinctures stains,
Which fairly good be in hid Physis hew:
That film all tinctures fair in it contains;
But she their goodly glory much restrains.
She colours dims; clogs tastes; and damps the sounds
Of sweetest musick; touch to scorching pains
She turns, or baser tumults; smels confounds.
O horrid womb of hell, that with such ill abounds.
46
From this first film all bulk in quantity
Doth bougen out, and figure thence obtain.
Here eke begins the life of Sympathy,
And hidden virtue of magnetick vein,
Where unknown spirits beat, and Psyche's trane
Drag as they list, upon pursuit or flight;
One part into another they constrain
Through strong desire, and then again remit.
Each outward form's a shrine of its magnetick spright.
<13>
47
The ripen'd child breaks through his mothers womb,
The raving billows closely undermine
The ragged rocks, and then the seas intomb
Their heavy corse, and they their heads recline
On working sand: The Sunne and Moon combine;
Then they're at ods in site Diametrall:
The former age to th' present place resigne:
And what's all this but wafts of winds centrall
That ruffle, touze, and tosse Dame Psyche's wrimpled veil?
48
So Physis. Next is Arachnea thin,
The thinner of these two, but thinn'st of all
Is Semele, that's next to Psyches skin.
The second we thin Arachnea call,
Because the spider, that in Princes hall
Takes hold with her industrious hand, and weaves
Her dainty tender web; far short doth fall
Of this soft yeilding vest; this vest deceives
The spiders curious touch, and of her praise bereaves.
49
In midst of this fine web doth Haphe sit:
She is the centre from whence all the light
Dispreads, and goodly glorious Forms do flit
Hither and thither. Of this mirour bright
Haphe's the life and representing might
Haphe's the mother of sense-sympathy;
Hence are both Hearing, Smelling, Taste, and Sight:
Haphe's the root of felt vitality;
But Haphe's mother hight all-spread Community.
50
In this clear shining mirour Psyche sees
All that falls under sense, what ere is done
Upon the Earth; the Deserts shaken trees,
The mournfull winds, the solitary wonne
Of dreaded beasts, the Lybian Lyons moan,
When their hot entralls scorch with hunger keen,
And they to God for meat do deeply groan;
He hears their cry, he sees of them unseen;
His eyelids compasse all that in the wide world been.
<14>
51
He sees the weary traveller sit down
In the waste field oft-times with carefull chear:
His chafed feet, and the long way to town,
His burning thirst, faintnesse, and Panick fear,
Because he sees not him that stands so near,
Fetch from his soul deep sighs with count'nance sad,
But he looks on to whom nought doth dispear:
O happy man that full persuasion had
Of this! if right at home, nought of him were ydrad.
52
A many sparrows for small price be sold,
Yet none of them his wings on earth doth close
Lighting full soft, but that eye doth behold,
Their jets, their jumps, that mirour doth disclose.
Thrice happy he that putteth his repose
In his all-present God. That Africk rock
But touch't with heedlesse hand, Auster arose
With blust'ring rage, that with his irefull shock
And moody might he made the worlds frame nigh to rock.
53
And shall not He, when his Anointed be
Ill handled, rise, and in his wrathfull stour
Disperse, and quell the haughty enemy,
Make their brisk sprights to lout and lowly lowr?
Or else confound them quite with mighty power?
Touch not my Kings, my Prophets let alone,
Harm not my Preists; or you shall ill endure
Your works sad payment and that deadly lone;
Keep off your hand from that high holy Rock of stone.
54
Do not I see? I slumber not nor sleep.
Do not I hear? each noise by shady night
My mirour represents: when mortals steep
Their languid limbs in Morpheus dull delight,
I hear such sounds as Adams brood would fright.
The dolefull echoes from the hollow hill
Mock howling wolves: the woods with black bedight
Answer rough Pan, his pipe and eke his skill,
And all the Satyr-routs rude whoops and shoutings shrill.
<15>
55
The night's no night to me: What? shall the Owl
And nimble Cat their courses truly steer,
And guide their feet and wings to every hole
So right, this on the ground, that in the air?
And shall not I by night see full as clear?
All sense doth in proportion consist,
Arachnea doth all proportions bear;
All sensible proportions that fine twist
Contains: all life of sense is in great Haphes lift.
56
Sense and concent, and all abhorrency,
Be variously divided in each one
Partic'lar creature: But antipathy
Cannot be there where fit proportion
Strikes in with all things in harmonious tone.
Thus Haphe feels nought to her self contrair:
In her there's tun'd a just Diapason
For every outward stroke: withouten jarre
Thus each thing doth she feel, and each thing easly bear.
57
But Haphe and Arachne I'll dismisse,
And that fourth vest, rich Semele display:
The largest of all foure and loosest is
This floting flouring changeable array.
How fairly doth it shine, and nimbly play,
Whiles gentle winds of Paradise do blow,
And that bright Sun of the eternall day
Upon it glorious light and forms doth strow,
And Abad it with love and joy doth overflow
58
This all-spread Semele doth Bacchus bear,
Impregn'd of Jove or On. He is the wine
That sad down-drooping senses wont to rear,
And chearlesse hearts to comfort in ill tine.
He 'flames chast Poets brains with fire divine;
The stronger spright the weaker spright doth sway;
No wonder then each phansie doth incline
To their great mother Semel, and obey
The vigourous impresse of her enforcing ray.
<16>
59
She is the mother of each Semele:
The daughters be divided one from one;
But she grasps all. How can she then but see
Each Semels shadows by this union?
She sees and swayes imagination
As she thinks good; and if that she think good
She lets it play by't self, yet looketh on,
While she keeps in that large strong-beating floud
That makes the Poet write, and rave as he were wood.
60
Prophets and Poets have their life from hence;
Like fire into their marrow it searcheth deep,
This flaming fiery flake doth choak all sense,
And binds the lower man with brazen sleep:
Corruption through all his bones doth creep,
And raging raptures do his soul outsnatch:
Round-turning whirlwinds on Olympus steep
Do cast the soul, that earst they out did catch:
Then stiller whispering winds dark visions unlatch.
61
But not too farre, thou bold Platonick Swain:
Strive not at once all myst'ries to discover
Of that strange School: More and more hard remain
As yet untold. But let us now recover
Strength to our selves by rest in duly houre.
Great Psyches Parentage, Marriage, and Weeds
We having song according to our power,
That we may rise more fresh for morning deeds,
Let's here take Inne and rest our weary sweating steeds.
<17>
The Argument of
PSYCHOZOIA,
Or,
The life of the Soul.
CANT. II.
Here's taught how into Psychanie
Souls from their centrall sourse
Go forth, Here Beïrons ingeny
Old Mnemon doth discourse.
1
I Sang great Psyche in my former song,
Old Atoves daughter, sister unto On,
Mother of all that nimble Atom-throng
Of winged Lives, and Generation.
When Psyche wedded to Autocalon,
They both to Ahad forthwith straight were wed:
For as you heard, all these became but one,
And so conjoyn'd they lie all in one bed,
And with that four-fold vest they be all overspred.
2
Here lies the inmost centre of Creation,
From whence all inward forms and life proceed:
Here's that aereall stole, that to each fashion
Of Sensibles is matter for their weed.
This is the ground where God doth sow his seed,
And whilest he sowes with whispering charms doth bid
This flourish long, and that to make more speed,
And all in order by his word doth rid:
So in their fatall round they 'pear and then are hid.
<18>
3
Beginning, End, Form and Continuance
Th' impression of his word to them doth deal,
Occurrences he sees, and mindeth chance:
But chance hath bounds. The Sea cannot o're swell
Its just precincts. Or rocky shores repell
His foming force; or else his inward life
And Centrall rains do fairly him compell
Within himself, and gently 'pease the strife,
Or makes him gnaw the bit with rore and rage full rife.
4
So fluid chance is set its certain bound,
Although with circling winds it be ytost;
And so the pilots skill doth quite confound
With unexpected storms, and men have lost
Their time, their labour, and their precious cost.
Yet ther's a Neptune Soveraign of this Sea,
Which those that in themselves put not their trust
To rude mischance did never yet betray:
It’s He, whom both the winds and stormy Seas obey.
5
Now sith my wandring Bark so far is gone,
And flitten forth upon the Occan main,
I thee beseech that just dominion
Hast of the Sea, and art true Soveraign
Of working phancie when it floats amain
With full impregned billows and strong rage
Enforceth way upon the boyling plain,
That thou wouldst steer my ship with wisdome sage,
That I with happy course may run my watery stage.
6
My mind is mov'd dark Parables to sing
Of Psyches progeny that from her came,
When she was married to that great King,
Great Æon, who just title well may claim
To every soul, and brand them with his name.
Its He that made us, and not our own might:
But who, alas! this work can well proclaim?
We silly sheep cannot bleat out aright
The manner how: but that that giveth light is light.
<19>
7
Then let us borrow from the glorious Sun
A little light to illustrate this act,
Such as he is in his solstitiall Noon,
When in the Welkin there's no cloudy tract
For to make grosse his beams, and light refract.
Then sweep by all those Globes that by reflexion
His long small shafts do rudely beaten back,
And let his rayes have undenied projection,
And so we will pursue this mysteries retection.
8
Now think upon that gay discoloured Bow:
That part that is remotest from the light
Doth duskish hew to the beholder show;
The nearer parts have colour farre more bright,
And next the brightest is the subtle light;
Then colours seem but a distinct degree
Of light now failing; such let be the sight
Of his farre spreaden beams that shines on high:
Let vast discoloured Orbs close his extremity,
9
The last Extreme, the farthest off from light,
That's Natures deadly shadow, Hyle’s cell.
O horrid cave, and womb of dreaded night?
Mother of witchcraft, and the cursed spell,
Which nothing can avail 'gainst Israel.
No Magick can him hurt; his portion
Is not divided Nature; he doth dwell
In light, in holy love, in union;
Not fast to this or that, But free communion.
10
Dependence of this All hence doth appear,
And severall degrees subordinate.
But phancie's so unfit such things to clear,
That oft it makes them seem more intricate:
And now Gods work it doth disterminate
Too farre from his own reach: But he withall
More inward is, and farre more intimate
Then things are with themselves. His Ideall,
And Centrall presence is in every Atom-ball.
<20>
11
Therefore those different hews through all extend
So farre as light: Let light be every where:
And every where with light distinctly blend
Those different colours which I nam'd whilere
The Extremities of that farre shining sphear.
And that far shining sphear, which Centre was
Of all those different colours, and bright chear,
You must unfasten; so o'respred it has,
Or rather deeply fill'd, with Centrall sand each place.
12
Now sith that this withouten penetrance
Of bodies may be done: we clearly see
(As well as that pendent subordinance)
The nearly couching of each Realtie,
And the Creatours close propinquitie,
To ev'ry creature. This be understood
Of differentiall profunditie.
But for the overspreading Latitude;
Why may't not equally be stretch'd with th' Ocean floud?
13
There Proteus wonnes and fleet Idothea,
Where the lowest step of that profunditie
Is pight; Next that is Psyche’s out-array:
It Tasis hight: Physis is next degree:
There Psyche’s feet impart a smaller fee
Of gentle warmth. Physis is the great womb
From whence all things in th' University
Yclad in divers forms do gaily bloom,
And after fade away, as Psyche gives the doom.
14
Next Physis is the tender Arachnee.
There in her subtile loom doth Haphe sit:
But the last vest is changing Semele:
And next is Psyches self. These garments fit
Her sacred limbs full well, and are so knit
One part to other, that the strongest sway
Of sharpest axe, them no'te asunder smite.
The seventh is Æon with Eternall ray:
The eighth Atove, steddy Cube, all propping Adonai.
<21>
15
Upon this universall Ogdoas
Is founded every particularment:
From this same universall Diapase
Each harmony is fram'd and sweet concent.
But that I swerve not far from my intent,
This Ogdoas let ’t be an Unitie
One mighty quickned Orb of vast extent,
Throughly possest of lifes community,
And so those vests be seats of Gods vitality.
16
Now deem this universall Round alone,
And rayes no rayes but a first all-spred light,
And centrick all like one pellucid Sun;
A Sun that's free, not bound by Natures might,
That where he lists exerts his rayes outright,
Both when he lists, and what, and eke how long,
And then retracts so as he thinketh meet.
These rayes be that particular creature-throng:
Their number none can tell, but that all-making tongue.
17
Now blundring Naturalist behold the spring
Of thy deep-searching soul, that fain would know
Whether a mortall or immortall thing
It be, and whence at first it ’gan to flow;
And that which chiefest is where it must go.
Some fixt necessity thou fain wouldst find:
But no necessity, where there's no law,
But the good pleasure of an unty'd mind:
Therefore thy God seek out, and leave Nature behind.
18
He kills, He makes alive; the keys of Hell
And Death he hath. He can keep souls to wo
When cruell hands of Fate them hence expell:
Or He in Lethe’s lake can drench them so,
That they no act of life or sense can show.
They march out at His word, and they retreat;
March out with joy, retreat with footing slow
In gloomy shade, benumm'd with pallid sweat,
And with their feeble wings their fainting breasts they beat.
<22>
19
But souls that of his own good life partake
He loves as His own self; dear as His eye
They are to Him: He'll never them forsake:
When they shall dye, then God Himself shall die.
They live, they live in blest Eternity.
The wicked are not so; but like the dirt,
Trampled by man and beast, in grave they lye.
Filth and corruption is their rufull sort:
Themselves with death and worms in darknesse they disport.
20
Their rotten relicks lurk close under ground:
With living weight no sense or sympathy
They have at all; nor hollow thundring sound
Of roring winds, that cold mortality
Can ?\w/ake, ywrapt in sad Fatality.
To horses hoof that beats his grassie dore
He answers not: The Moon in silency,
Doth passe by night, and all bedew him o're
With her cold humid rayes; but he feels not Heavens power.
21
O dolefull lot of disobedience!
If God should souls thus drench in Lethe lake
But O unspeakable torture of sense,
When sinfull souls do life and sense partake,
That those damn'd Spirits may them anvils make
Of their fell cruelty, that lay such blows
That very ruth doth make my heart to quake
When I consider of the drery woes,
And tearing torment that each soul then undergoes.
22
Hence the souls nature we may plainly see:
A beam it is of th' Intellectuall Sun.
A ray indeed of that Æternity;
But such a ray as when it first out shone,
From a free light its shining date begun.
And that same light when 't list can call it in;
Yet that free light hath given a free wonne
To this dependent ray: hence cometh sin;
From sin dred Death and Hell these wages doth it win.
<23>
23
Each life a severall ray is from that Sphear
That Sphear doth every life in it contain.
Arachne, Semel, and the rest do bear
Their proper virtue, and with one joynt strain
And powerfull sway they make impression plain,
And all their rayes be joyned into one
By Ahad: so this womb withouten pain
Doth flocks of souls send out that have their won
Where they list most to graze; as I shall tell anon.
24
The countrey where they live Psychania hight,
Great Psychany, that hath so mighty bounds,
If bounds it have at all. So infinite
It is of bignesse, that it me confounds
To think to what a vastnesse it amounds.
The Sun Saturnus, Saturn the Earth exceeds
The Earth the Moon; but all, those fixed Rounds;
But Psychany those fixed Rounds exceeds,
As farre as those fix'd Rounds excell small mustard-seeds.
25
Two mighty Kingdomes hath this Psychany,
The one self-feeling Autæsthesia;
The other hight god-like Theoprepy,
Autæsthesy’s divided into tway:
One province cleped is great Adamah
Which also hight Beirah of brutish fashion;
The other Providence is Dizoia;
There you may see much mungrill transformation,
Such monstrous shapes proceed from Niles foul inundation.
26
Great Michael ruleth Theoprepia,
A mighty Prince. King of Autæsthesy
Is that great Giant who bears mighty sway,
Father of Discord, Falshood, Tyranny,
His name is Dæmon, not from Sciency,
Although he boasteth much in skilfull pride;
But he's the fount of foul duality,
That wicked witch Duessa is his bride:
From his dividing force this name to him betide.
<24>
27
Or for that he himself is quite divided
Down to the belly; there's some unity:
But head, and tongue, and heart be quite discided;
Two heads, two tongues, and eke two hearts there be.
This head doth mischief plot, that head doth see
Wrong fairly to o'reguild. One tongue doth pray,
The other curse. The hearts do ne're agree
But felly one another do upbray:
An ugly cloven foot this monster doth upstay.
28
Two sons great Dæmon of Duessa hath:
Autophilus the one ycleeped is;
In Dizoie he worketh wondrous scath;
He is the cause what so there goes amisse,
In Psyches stronger plumed progenies.
But Philosomatus rules Beirah,
This proud puft Giant whilom did arise,
Born of the slime of Autæsthesia,
And bred up these two sons yborn of Duessa.
29
Duessa first invented magick lore,
And great skill hath to joyn and disunite:
This herb makes love, that hearb makes hatred sore:
And much she can against an Edomite;
But nought she can against an Israelite,
Whose heart 's upright and doth himself forsake.
For he that's one with God no magick might
Can draw or here or there through blind mistake.
Magick can onely quell natures Dæmoniake.
30
But that I may in time my self betake
To straighter course, few things I will relate,
Of which old Mnemon mention once did make.
A jolly Swain he was in youthfull state,
When he mens natures gan to contemplate,
And kingdomes view: But he was aged then
When I him saw; his years bore a great date;
He numbred had full ten times ten times ten:
There's no Pythagorist but knows well what I mean.
<25>
31
Old Mnemons head and beard was hoary white,
But yet a chearfull countenance he had:
His vigorous eyes did shine like starres bright,
And in good decent freez he was yclad,
As blith and buxom as was any lad
Of one and twenty cloth'd in forrest green;
Both blith he was, and eke of counsell sad:
Like winter-morn bedight with snow and rine
And sunny rayes, so did his goodly Eldship shine.
32
Of many famous towns in Beirah,
And many famous Laws and uncouth Rites
He spake: but vain it is for to assay
To reckon up such numbers infinite.
And much he spake where I had no insight,
But well I wot that some there present had;
For words to speak to uncapable wight
Of foolishnesse proceeds or phrensie mad.
So alwayes some, I wis, could trace his speeches pad.
33
But that which I do now remember best,
Is that which he of Psittacusa lond
Did speak. This Psittacuse is not the least,
Or the most obscure Countrey that is found
In wastefull Beiron: it is renown’d
For famous Clerks yclad in greenish cloke,
Like Turkish Priests, if Amoritish ground
We call 't, no cause that title to revoke.
But of this Land to this effect old Mnemon spoke.
34
I travelled in Psittacusa Lond:
Th' Inhabitants the lesser Adamah
Do call it; but then Adam I have found
It ancienter, if so I safely may
Unfold th' antiquity. They by one day
Are elder then old Adam, and by one
At least are younger then Arcadia.
O' th' sixth day Adam had's creation;
Those on the fifth, the Arcades before the Moon.
<26>
35
In this same Land as I was on the rode,
A nimble traveller me overtook:
Fairly together on the way we yode.
Tho I gan closely on his person look;
And eye his garb: He straight occasion took
To entertain discourse, though none I raught,
But unprovok’d he first me undertook:
So soon as he gan talk, then straight I laught:
The Sage himself represt, but thought me nigh distraught.
36
His concave nose, great head, and grave aspect,
Affected tone, words without inward sense,
My inly tickled spright made me detect
By outward laughter; but by best pretence
I purg’d my self, and gave due reverence.
Then he gan gravely treat of codicils,
And of Book readings passing excellence,
And tri'd his wit in praysing gooses quills:
O happy age! quoth he, the world Minerva fills.
37
I gave the talk to him, which pleas'd him well:
For then he seem'd a learned clerk to been,
When none contrary'd his uncontrolled spell,
But I, alas! though unto him unseen,
Did flow with tears, as if that onyons keen
Had pierc'd mine eyen. Strange vertue of fond joy:
They ought to weep that be in heavie teen.
But nought my lightsome heart did then annoy:
So light it lay, it mov'd at every windie toy.
38
As we yode softly on, a Yongster gent
With bever cock’t and arm set on one side
(His youthfull fire quickly our pace out-went)
Full fiercely pricked on in madcap pride,
The mettle of his horses heels he tri'd,
He hasted to his countrey Pithecuse.
Most haste, worst speed: still on our way we ride,
And him o'retake halting through haplesse bruize;
We help him up again, our help he nould refuse.
<27>
39
Then gan the learn'd and ag'd Don Psittaco,
When he another auditour had got,
To spruse his plumes, and wisdome sage to show,
And with his sacred lore to wash the spot
Of youthfull blemishes; but frequent jot
Of his hard setting jade did so confound
The words that he by paper-stealth had got,
That their lost sense the yongster could not sound,
Though he with mimicall attention did abound.
40
Yet some of those faint winged words came near,
Of God, of Adam, and the shape divine,
Which Adams children have; (these pierc'd his ear)
And how that man is lord of every kind
Of beasts, of birds, and of each hidden mine
Of natures treasures. He to Adams sonne
The wide world for his kingdome doth designe:
And ever naming God, he look'd aboven:
Pithecus straight plac'd God a thought above the Moon.
41
Pithecus, so they call this gentle wight,
The docible young man eas'ly could trace
His masters steps, most quick and expedite.
When Psittaco look'd up to holy place,
Pithecus straight with sanctimonious grace
Cast up his eyes; and when the shape divine,
Which Adam had from God, he gan to praise,
Pithecus draws himself straight from that line,
And phansies his sweet face with heavenly hiew to shine.
42
He pincht his hat, and from his horses side
Stretcht forth his russet legs, himself inclin'd
Now here, now there, and most exactly eyed
His comely lineaments, that he might find
What ever beauty else he had not mind
As yet in his fair corse. But that full right
And vast prerogative did so vnbind
His straighted sprights, that with tyrannick might
He forc’d his feeble beast, and straight fled out of sight.
<28>
43
Then I and Psittaco were left alone;
And which was strange, he deeply silent was:
Whether some inward grief he from that fon,
Conceiv'd, and deemed it no small disgrace
That that bold youngster should so little passe
His learned speech; or whether nought to sain
He had then left; or whether a wild chase
Of flitting inconsistent thoughts he than
Pursu'd, which turn'd and toy'd in his confused brain:
44
Or whether he was woxen so discreet,
As not to speak till fit occasion.
(To judge the best, that Charity counts meet)
Therefore that Senior sad I gan anon
Thus to bespeak: Good Sir, I crave pardon
If so I chance to break that golden twist
You spin, by rude interpellation,
That twist of choicest thoughts. No whit I miss'd
The mark I aimed at; to speak he had great list.
45
So then his spirits gan to come again,
And to enact his corps and impart might
Unto his languide tongue, and every vein
Received heat, when due conceived right
I did to him; and weend he plainly see't
That I was toucht with admiration
Of his deep learning, and quick shifting sight.
Then I gan quire of the wide Behiron.
Behiron, quoth that Sage, that hight Anthropion.
46
Anthropion we call't; but th' holy tongue
(His learning lay in words) that Behiron
Which we Anthropion, calls, as I among
The Rabbins read: but sooth to say no tone,
Nor tongue, or speech, so sweet as is our own,
Or so significant. For mark the sense:
From ἄνω ἀθρεῖν is Anthropion;
And we are all of an upright presence;
Nor I'll be drawn from this conceit by no pretence.
<29>
47
I prais'd his steddy faith and confidence,
That stood as fast as trunk or rock of stone;
Yet nathelesse, said I, the excellence
Of stedfastnesse is not to yield to none,
But stiff to stand till mov'd by right reason;
And then by yielding, part of victory
To gain. What fitnesse in Anthropion?
Baboons, and Apes, as well as th' Anthropi
Do go upright, and beasts grown mad do view the sky.
48
Then marken well what great affinitie
There is twixt Ape, mad Beast, and Satyrs wild,
And the Inhabitants of Anthropie,
When they are destitute of manners mild,
And th' inward man with brutishnesse defil'd
Hath life and love and lust and cogitation
Fixt in foul sense, or moving in false guile;
That holy tongue the better nomination,
So farre, I know, may give: 'Tis ghesse, not full perswasion.
49
Therefore, O learned Sir, aread aright,
What may this word Behiron signifie?
He wondrous glad to shew his Grammar-might,
This same word Behiron doth signifie
The brutish nature, or brutallitie,
Said he: and with his voice lift up his front.
Then I his skill did gaily magnifie,
And blest me, I an idiot should light on't
So happily, that never was a scholar count;
50
And said, Then holy tongue is on my side;
And holy tongue is better then profane.
He angry at his courtesie, reply'd
That learned men ought for to entertain
Discourse of learned tongues, and countrey swain
Of countrey ’fairs. But for to answer thee,
This I dare warrant surely to maintain,
If to contrair the holy tongue should be
Absurd, I find enough such contrariety,
<30>
51
Then I in simple sort him answered thus,
I ken not the strange guize of learned Schools,
But if Gods thoughts be contrair unto us,
Let not deep wonderment possesse our souls,
If he call fools wisemen, and wisemen fools.
If rich he poore men term, if poore men rich,
If crafty States-men, silly countrey gulls,
Beasts men, men beasts, with many other such:
God seeth not as man seeth, God speaks not in mans speech.
52
Straight he to higher pearch, like bird in cage,
Did skip, and sang of etern Destiny,
Of sight and foresight he with count'nance sage
Did speak, and did unfold Gods secresie,
And left untoucht no hidden mystery.
I lowly louting held my cap in hond:
He askt what meant that so sudden coursie.
I pardon crave, said I, for manners fond;
You are Heavens Privy-Counsellour I understond,
53
Which I wist not before: so deep insight
Into the hidden things of God who can
Attain unto, without that quickning spright
Of the true God? Who knows the mind of man
But that same spright that in his breast doth won?
Therefore the key of Gods hid secresie
Is his own spright, that 's proper to the Son,
And those of that second nativity,
Which holy Temples are of the Divinity.
54
Therefore as th' sacred Seat o' th' Deity,
I unto you seemly behaviour make,
If you be such as you may seem to be.
It is mans nature easily to mistake.
My words his mind did quite asunder break:
For he full forward was all to assume
That might him gild with glory, and pertake
With God; and joyed greatly in vain fume,
And prided much himself in his purloined plume.
<31>
55
So that full loth he was for to undo
My fairly winded up conclusion;
Yet inwardly did not assent unto
My premises: for foul presumption
He thought, if that a private idiot man
By his new birth should either equalize,
Or else outstrip the bookish nation.
Perhaps some foul deformities disguise
Their life: tush! that to knowledge is no prejudice.
56
But he nould say so: for why? he was bent
To keep the credit which he then had got,
As he conceiv'd: for it had been yblent;
It might have hazarded half of his lot,
To wit his god-like hew withouten spot,
If so be such deep knowledge could consist
With wicked life: but he nould lose one jot
Of his so high esteem, nor me resist.
So I escap'd the souse of his contracted fist.
57
And here I think we both as dumb had been
As were the slow-foot beasts on which we rode
Had not Don Psittaco by fortune seen
A place which well he knew though disallow’d;
Which he to me with earnest countenance show’d
Histing me nearer; nearer both we go
And closely under the thick hedges crowd,
Which were not yet so thick but they did show
Through their false sprays all the whole place and persons too.
58
It was to weet, a trimly decked Close
Whose grassie pavement wrought with even line
Ran from the Morn upon the Evening-close.
The Eastern end by certain steps they climbe
To do their holy things, (O sight divine!)
There on the middle of the highest flore
A large green turf squar’d out, all fresh and fine
Not much unlike to Altars us’d of yore
Right fairly was adorn’d with every glittering flower.
<32>
59
At either end of this well raised sod
A stately stalk shot up of Torchwort high
Whose yellow flames small light did cast abroad
But yet a pleasant shew they yield the eye.
A pretty space from this we did descry
An hollow Oak, whose navell the rough saw
Long since had clove: so standing wet and dry
Around the stumped top soft mosse did grow
Whose velvet hue and verdure cushion-like did show.
60
Within the higher hedge of thickn’d trees
A lower rank on either side we saw
Of lesser shrubs even-set with artifice.
There the wood-queristers sat on a row
And sweetly sung while Borcas did blow
Above their heads, with various whistling
As his blasts hap to break (now high, now low)
Against the branches of the waving Pines
And other neighbour plants, still rocking with the winds.
61
But above these bird of more sightly plume
With gold and purple feathers gayly dight
Are rank’d aloft. But th’ Eagle doth assume
The highest sprig. For his it is by right.
Therefore in seemly sort he there is pight
Sitting aloft in his green Cabinet
From whence he all beholds with awfull sight,
Who ever in that solemne place were met,
At the West end for better view, right stately set.
62
After a song loud chanted by that Quire
Tun’d to the whistling of the hollow winde
Comes out a gay Pye in his rich attire
The snowie white with the black sattin shin’d,
On’s head a silken cap he wore unlin’d:
When he had hopped to the middle store
His bowing head right lowly he inclin’d
As if some Deity he did adore,
And seemly gestures make courting the Heavenly powr.
<33>
63
Thus cring’d he toward th’ East with shivering wings
With eyes onthe square sod devoutly bent.
Then with short flight up to the Oak he springs
Where he thrice congied after his ascent
With posture chang’d from th’ East to th’ Occident,
Thrice bowed he down and easily thrice he rose;
Bow’d down so low as if ’t had been ’s intent
On the green mosse to wipe his swarthy nose.
Anon he chatters loud, but why himself best knows.
64
There we him leave, impatient of stay
My self amaz’d such actions to see
And pretty gestures ’mongst those creatures gay:
So unexpected Uniformitie,
And such a semblance of due piety:
For every Crow as when he cries for rain
Did Eastward nod; and every Daw we see
When they first entered this grassie Plain
With shaking wings and bended bills ador’d the same.
65
O that the spirit of Pythagoras
Would now invade my breas, dear Psittaco!
Said I. In nature he so cunning was
As both the mind of birds and beasts to know,
What meant their voyces and their gestures too.
So might we riddle out some mystery
Which lieth hid in this strange uncouth show;
But thy grave self may be as wise as he
I wrote. Aread then Psittaco what sights these be.
66
Certs, said he, thine eyes be waxen dim
These be the people of wide Adamah
These be no birds, ’tis true, they’re sons of sin
And vessels of Heavens ire, for sooth to say,
They have no faith, I fear no ever may,
But be shap’d out for everlasting shame,
Though they deride us of Psittacusa:
Yet well I wot, we have the onely name
Above, and though all foul yet there devoyd of blame.
<34>
67
And that green spot which thou maist deem a Close
It is to them no Close but holy place
Ycleep’d a Church, whose sight doth well dispose
Approaching souls. The rest thy self maist trace
By true analogy, But I’ll not passe
One thing remarkable, said he to me.
It was Don Pico took the preaching place
A man of mighty power in his own See;
A man, no bird, as he did fondly seem to thee.
68
Mn. Tell then Don Psittaco, what Pico ment
By his three bowings to the setting Sun
And single obesance toward th’ Orient.
What! were they postures of Religion?
If so; why had those yellow flames but one?
The Eagle three? That th’ Eagle was his God
It is, said he, a strong presumption,
Whom he first slightly in that hold sod
After ador’d more fully with a triple nod.
69
Certes, quoth I, such Majesty divine
And seemly graces in the Eagle be
That they the gentle heart may well incline
To all respect and due civility.
But if that worship civill be, said he,
Certes, Don Pico can not well excuse
Himself from fault of impious flattery
His holy gestures streightway thus to use
To mortall man, redoubling thrice the bold abuse.
70
But well observe, said I, the motion.
While he draws lowly back his demure bill
Making it touch the mossie cushion,
His moving Karkas shrinketh nearer still
Toward the sacred sod.
What then, quoth he, was it is Pico’s mind
That solemn service with four ducks to fill
But one before, the other three behind.
My duller wit, said I, the mystery cannot find.
<35>
71
Ps. But I can find it. Superstition
And flattery, have made Don Pico blind.
These interfare in fond confusion.
But both conspire to hold up his swoln mind
In supercilious pride and wayes unkind.
For he doth dominere o’re Psittacuse.
Dear Psittacuse! when shalt thou once outwind
Thy self from this sad yoke? who brings the news
Of Sions full release from scorn and foul abuse?
72
O had we once the power in our hands
How carefully the youth wee’d catechise,
But bind Gods enemies in iron bands
(Such honour have his Saints) and would devise
Set forms of Truth, on Discipline advise
That unto both all men might needs conform.
Mn. But what it any tender heart denies?
Ps. If he will his own fortunes overturn
It cannot well be holp, we must be uniform.
73
Mn. Good reason too, said I. Don Pico grave
The self same doctrine preacheth as I hear.
But Reverend Psittaco, let me freedome crave
To ask one question, Is ’t because ’t’s so clear
That who so shall dissent shall pay so dear.
Or will you in those things you do not know
But be uncertain, certain mischief bear
To them that due assent cannot bestow?
It is in such, said he, that we for certain know.
74
But how know you those things for certainty?
By Reason, Scripture, or the Spirit divine,
Or lastly by Churches Authority?
Wit that Don Psittaco cast up his eyen
Brim ful of thoughts to solve this knot of mine.
But in the fall of his hig-gazing sight
He spide two on the rode he did divine
To be of his acquaintance, them we meet,
Forthwith Don Psittaco the strangers kindly greet.
<36>
75
And then he them both seemly salutes again.
The one on a lean fiery jade did sit
And seem’d a wight of a right subtile brain.
Both cloth’d as black as jet. But he was fit
With a dry wall-nut shell to fence his wit,
Which like a quilted cap on’s head he wore
Lin’d with white taffity, wherein were writ
More trimly than the Iliads of yore
The laws of Mood and Figure and many precepts more.
76
All the nice questions of the School-men old
And subtilties as thin as cobwebs bet,
Which he wore thinner in his thoughts yrold,
And his warm brains, they say, were closer se
With sharp distinctions tan a cushionet
With pins and needles; which he can shoot out
Like angry Porcupine, where e’re they hit.
Certes a doughty Clerk and Champion stout
He seem’d and well appointed against every doubt.
77
The other rod on a fat resty jade
That neighed loud. His rider was not lean.
His black plump belly fairly outward swai’d
And pressed somewhat hard on th’ horses mane.
Most like methought to a Cathedrall Dean.
A man of prudence and great courtesie
And wisely in the world he knew to glean.
His sweaty neck did shine right greasily
Top heavy was his head with earthly policy.
78
This wight Corvino, Psittacus me told
Was named, and the other Graculo.
They both of his acquaintance were of old
Though so near freindship now they did not owe.
But yet in generalls agreed, I trow.
For they all dearly hug dominion,
And love to hold means consciences in awe
Each standing stiff for his opinion
In holy things, against all contradiction.
<37>
79
But most of all Corvin and Psittaco
Prudentiall men and of a might reach
Who through their wisdome sage th’ events foreknow
Of future things; and confidently preach
Unlesse there be a form which men must teach
Of sound opinions (each meaning his own)
But t’ be left free to doubt and count [his] speech
Authority is lost, our trade is gone
Our Tyrian wares forsaken, we, alas! shall mone.
80
Or at the best our life will bitter be:
For we must toyle to make our doctrine good.
Which will empare the flesh and weak the knee.
Our mind cannot attend our trencher-food,
Nor be let loose to sue the worldly good.
All’s our dear wives, poore wenches! they alone
Must ly long part of night when we withstood
By scrupulous wits must watch to nights high Noon
Till all our members grow as cold as any stone.
81
Heaps of such inconveniences arise
From Conscience-freedome, Christian liberty.
Besides our office all men will despise
Unlesse our lives gain us Autority.
Which in good sooth a harder task will be.
Dear brethren! sacred souls of Behiron!
Help, help as you desire to liven free
To ease, to wealth, to honour, and renown
And sway th’ affrighted world wit your disguized frown.
82
This is the Genuis of Corvino sage
And Psittaco falls little short in wit.
Though short he fall of old Corvino’s sage,
His steppings with the other footsteps fit.
And heavens bright eye it will aware of it.
But now me lists few passages to show
Amongst us foure when we together met
Occasion’d first by hardy Psittaco
Who Corvino did accost and nutshell Graculo.
<36>
83
Brethren! said he, (and held by holy belt
Corvino grave, ne did his hands abhor’t
When he the black silk rope soft simbling felt
And with his fingers milked evermore
The hanging frienge) one thing perplexeth sore
My reason weak and puzled thoughts, said he.
Tell then, ye learned Clerks, which of these foure
To weet, from Scripture, Church authority,
Gods Spirit, or mans Reason is Faiths Certainty.
84
For, well I wot, our selves must fully assent
To points of Faith we rigidly obtrude
On others, else there is no punishment
Due to gainsayers. Corvin here indewd
With singular gravity this point pursu’d,
Saying that all belief is solv’d at last
Into the Church, ne may the people rude
Nor learned wit her honour dare to blast
Nor scrupulous thoughts, nor doubtfull queres out to cast.
85
Strait Graculo with eyes as fierce as Ferrit
Reply’d: If all mens faith resolved be
Into each Church, all nations shall inherit
For ever their Ancestours Idolatry.
An Indian eve shall an Indian be
A Turk a Turk. To this Corvin anon;
I give not this infallibility
To every Church, but onely to our own
Full witnesse to her self of all the truths she’ll own.
86
Gr. That then is truth what she will say is true.
But not unlesse her the true Church thou hold.
How knowst thou then her such, good Corvin shew.
Friend Graculo in talk we be too bold.
Let’s go, I fear my self and horse take cold.
But t’ answer to that question, ’fore we go
The Church is true as she her self me told.
A goodly answer said Don Graculo.
You dispute in a Circle as all Logicians know.
<37>
87
Here Psittaco could not but inly smile
To se how Graculo Corvin did orecrow,
And fair replying with demeanance mild,
The truth, said he, the Scriptures onely show.
Streight nimble Graculus; But who can know
The sense of Scripture without reason sound?
The Scripture is both key and treasure too
It opes it self (so said that Clerk profound)
This place with that compar’d. This is the strongest ground.
88
Gr. But what with judgement doth them both compare?
Is’t reason or unreasonablenesse, I pray.
To which gave Psittacus, you so subtill are,
I list not with such cunning wits to play.
Here I stept in and thus began to say.
Right worthy Clerks, for so you be I ween,
Your queint discourse your breedings doth bewray,
Long time you have at learned Athens been
And all the dainty tricks of Art and Science seen.
89
If me a stranger wight it may be beseem
But homely bred, as yet unripe in years,
Who conscious of his weaknesses doth deem
Himself unfit to speak among his peers,
Much more unfit for your judicious ears
Whom Age and Arts do equally adorn
And solemne habit no small semblance bears
Of highest knowledge, might I be but born
A word or two to speak, now would I take my turn.
90
Say on said Psittaco. There’s a third, said I,
Not reason nor unreasonablenesse hight.
Here Graccus. The disjunction you deny.
Then I, There is third ycleep’d Gods spright
Nor reason nor unreasonablenesse hight.
Corvino straight foam’d like his champing jade
And said I was a very silly wight,
And how trough melancholy I was mad
And unto private spirits all holy truth betray’d.
<38>
91
But I nould with like fury him invade
But mildly as I mought made this reply.
Gods Spirit is no private empty shade
But that great Ghost that fills both earth and sky,
And through the boundlesse Universe doth ly,
Shining though purged hearts and simple minds
When doubling clouds of thick hypocrisie
Be blown away with strongly brushing winds;
Who first this tempest feels the Sun he after finds.
92
Thus wise and godly men I hear to teach,
And know no hurt this doctrine to believe.
Certes it much occasion doth reach
To leave the world and holily to live.
All due observance to Gods laws to give.
With care and diligence to maken pure
Those vessels that this heavenly dew receive.
But most in point of faith sleep too secure
And want this bait their souls to goodnesse to allure.
93
For they believen as the Church believes
Never expecting any other light.
And hence it is, each one so loosely lives,
Hopelesse of help from that internall spright.
Enough! said Graculo, Corvino’s right.
Let’s hear, dispute in figure and in mood.
And stifly with smart syllogismes fight
That what thou wouldst may wel be understood,
But now thou rovest out, and rav’st as thou wert wood.
94
Reason I say all Scripture sense must judge
Do thou one reason ’gainst this truth produce:
Reason, I said, in humane things may drudge
But in divine thy soul it may seduce.
Gr. Prove that. Mn. I prove it thus. For reasons use
Back’d with advantage of all sciences,
Of Arts, of tongues, cannot such light transfuse
But that most learned men do think amisse
In highest points divided as well you know, I wisse.
<43>
95
Here Graculo learing up with one eye
View’d the broad Heavens long resting in a pause
And all the while he held his neck awry
Like listning daw, turning his nimble nose,
At last these words his silent tongue did loose.
What is this spirit, say what’s this spirit man!
Who has it, answer’d I, he onely knows.
’Tis the hid Manna and the graven stone.
He canteth, said Corvino, come Grac, let’s be gone.
96
But Grac styd still this question to move.
Doth not, said he, reason to us descry
What things soever reasonable prove?
Not so. For the whole world that ope doth lie
Unto our sight, not reason but our eye
Discovers first, but upon that fair view
Our reason takes occasion to trie
Her proper skill and curiously pursue
The Art and sweet contrivance Heaven and Earth do shew.
97
There’s no man colour smels, or sees a sound,
Nor sucks the labour of the hony-bee
With’s hungry lugs, nor binds a gaping wound
With’s slippery ey-balls. Every faculty
And object have their due Analogy,
Nor can reach further than it’s proper sphear.
Who divine sense by reason would descry
Unto the Sun shine listens with his ear.
So plain this truth to me, Don Graco, doth appear.
98
How then, said Graco, is the spirit known
If not by reason? To this I replyde,
Onely the spirit can the spirit own.
But this, said he, is back again to slide
And in an idle Circle round to ride.
Why so, said I, Is not light seen by light?
Straight Graculo did skilfully divide
All knowledge into sense and reason right.
Be’t so, said I, Don Graco, what’s this reasons might?
<40>
99
If then said he, the spirit may not be
Right reason, surely we must deem it sense.
Yes sense it is, this was my short reply:
Sense upon which holy Intelligence
And heavenly Reason and comely Prudence
(O beauteous branches of that root divine!)
Do springen up, through inly experience
Of Gods hid wyes, as he doth ope the ey’n
Of our dark souls and in our hearts his light enshrine.
100
Here Graculus did seem exceeding glad
On any terms to hear but reason nam’d,
And with great joy and jollity he bad
Adew to me as if that he had gain’d
The victory. Besides Corvino blam’d
His too long stay. Wherefore he forward goes
Now more confirm’d his Nutshell-cap contain’d
What ever any living mortall knows.
Ne longer would he stay this sweet conceit to loose.
101
Thus Psittaco and I alone were left
In sober silence holding on our way.
His musing skull, poor man! was well nigh cleft
By strong distracting thoughts drove either way;
Whom pittying I thus began to say.
Dear Psittaco what anxious thoughts oppresse
Thy carefull heart and musing mind dismay?
I am perplexed much I must confesse
Said he, and thou art authour of my heavinesse.
102
My self Corvino’s Church-Autority
No certain ground of holy truth do deem.
And Scripture the next ground alledg’d by me
By Graco was confuted well, I ween.
But thou as in these points farre deeper seen
Than either Corvin or Don Graculo
Yea than my self, assent doth almost win
That Church nor Scripture, cast in reason too
Can to our searching minds truth’s hidden treasures show.
<41>
103
Wherefore a fourth, sole ground of certainty
Thou didst produce; to weet, the Spirit divine.
But now, alas! here is the misery,
That left to doubt we cannot well enjoyn
Nor this nor that, nor Faith-forms freely coyn
And make the trembling conscience swear thereto,
For we our selves do but ghesse and divine
What we force other men to swear is true,
Untill the day-star rise our eyes with light t’ embew.
104
Which gift though it be given to me and you,
Mn. (Not unto me, courteous Don Psittaco!)
Ps. Yet certainly there be but very few
That so sublime a pitch ascend unto.
Mn. My self, alas! a silly Swain I know
So far from solving these hard knots, said I,
That more and harder my ranck brain o’regrow
And wonder that thy quick sagacity
Doth not winde out a further inconveniency.
105
If light divine we know by divine light
Nor can by any other means it see
This ties their hands from force that have the spirit.
How can, said Psittaco, these things agree?
For without force vain is Church-Polity;
Mn. But to use force ’gainst men that thing to do
In which they’ve not the least ability
May seem unjust and violent; I trow,
’Gainst reason, ’gainst Religion, ’gainst all sence and law.
106
For ’tis as if the King of Arragon
Who was well skilled in Astronomy,
Should by decree deprive each Countrey Clown
Of life, or lands, or of sweet liberty
That would not fully avow each star in sky
Were bigger then the Earth. Here Psittaco
Though what I said did not well satisfie
His grave judicious self, yet he did know
Of whom this talk much ’plause would gain and kindnesse too:
<42>
107
And straight gan say. Dear Glaucis! hadst thou been
At this discourse, how would thy joyous spright
Have danc’d along. For thou art or well seen
In these queint points, or dost at least delight
Exceeding much to hear them open’d right.
And, well I wot, on earth scarce can be found
So witty girl, so wily female wight
As this my Glaucis, over all renown’d;
I mean for quicker parts, if not for judgment sound.
108
How fit an Auditor would she then prov’d
To thee, young Mnemon? how had she admired
Thy sifting wit, thy speech and person lov’d,
Clove to that mouth with melting zeal all fired,
And hung upon those lips so highly inspired?
Mn. Certes she’d been a bold immodest wight
To come so near when not at all desired.
Ps. Alas! good Mnemon you mistake me quite
I meant no fond salutes, but what is just and right;
109
Her due attention on thy wise discourse,
Though what thou deemst, and more then thou didst deem
May fit you too. For why? by Natures course
Like joyn with like: wherefore, right well I ween,
Mought I but make the match ’twould well beseem.
For your conspiring minds exactly agree
In points, which the wide world through wrath and teen
Rudely divide, I mean free Liberty.
Be ’t so, said I, yet may our grounds farre different be.
110
For might I but repeat without offence
What I have heard, ill symtomes men descry
In this thy Glaucis, though the nimble wench
So dexterously can pray and prophecy,
And lectures read of drad mortality,
Clasping her palms with fatall noise and shreeks,
Inculcating approching misery
To sad afflicted houses, when she strikes
With brushing strokes the glassie doors and entrance seeks.
<43>
111
Nor doth her solemne looks much like her Sire
Or native zeal which she did once derive
From thee grace Psittaco! exalt her higher
Then Earth and Nature: For men do conceive
Black sanguine fumes my spouse do thus deceive
Translating her into fools Paradise
And so of sense and reason her bereave,
And that that melting love which doth so please
Her gulled soul, the thawing is of her own grease.
112
The naturall spright it self doth sweetly hug
In false conceit and ill-deceiving guile,
Sucking fond solace from it’s own dear dug,
Like the mistaken Cat that lick’d the file
And drawing bloud, uncessantly did toyl
To suck that sweet, as if there Moses rock
Had swet new milk. Thus Glaucis doth beguil
Her likorish taste. als’ doth delude her flock,
Teaching them such themselves, their empty souls to mock.
113
Thus they intoxicate with their own bloud
Mistaken Elves! deem it no worse a thing
Then pure Ambrosian Nectar fresh and good,
In golden streams that from great Jove did spring:
And count themselves His onely choice Ofspring
Upon no count but that their count is so.
O sweet conceit! full joy! Soul-ravishing
Delight! Pure faith! Self-love keep close thereto.
Allow but this to us, we’ll any thing allow.
114
Besides the fixednesse of th’ eternall Fates
And Adamantine laws of Gods decree
Whereby immutably he loves and hates
May prove new grounds of Glaucis liberty.
No danger then nor detriment can be
To his own people whom of old he chose
From the out-goings of Eternity.
No infecting poyson may them ill dispose.
What worthlesse wit of men this puzling knot may loose.
<44>
115
Did not I tell thee what a wily lasse,
Said Psittaco, my daughter Glaux would prove?
And well perceiving how averse I was
From her strange manners, left of all suits of love,
And straight gan show me how she did improve
Her principles to lewdnesse and excesse:
Secure, no fault, no filth can ever move
Her Maker to dislike, no unrighteousnesse
Can hurt her soul, ne sorrow needs she to expresse.
116
Thus in the wicked wench rank fields do grow
Of Rapine, Riot, Lust, and Covetize,
Of Prid, of Sacriledge, and a thousand moe
Disorders, which no mortall can devise,
Said I, from ought, but that mistake t’ arise
Of naked Faith disjoyn’d from Purity.
So with full bitter words he did chastise
His absent child; but whether zeal it be,
Or deep conceived hatred, I no’te well descry.
117
Nor stopt he here, but told me all her guise
How law-lesse quite and out of shape she’s grown
Affecting still wilde contrarieties,
Averse from what for good all others own.
Preposterous Girl! how often hast thou thrown
Thy self into dark corners at Mid-day,
And then at dead of Night away art flown
To some old barn, thereon to preach and pray
Ending thy dark devotions just at Break of day.
118
When others sleep or weep, then dost thou sing
In frosty night on neighbours chimney set,
When others fast ’ginst thou thy revelling;
Thy lustfull sparrows greedily dost eat,
Which thou by bloud and violence dost get.
When others eyes plainly can nothing see,
Then thy prodigious lamps by night unwet
And unblown-out, can read right readily
Withouten spectacles, the smallest prints that be.
<45>
119
If chance or free election ever brings
Thee to our Churches, then with hooting wild,
Thou causest uproars, and our holy things
Font, Table, Pulpit, they be all defil’d
With thy broad mutings and large squirtings vilde.
Mn. Phy; Psittaco! hide such infirmities
From stranger wight: Who would his own dear child
Thus shamefuly disgrace? With mine own eyes
Have I thy Glaucis seen, and better things surmise.
120
Good sooth, methinks, she is not so defac’d
And all misshapen, and grown out of square,
But that my self most evidently trac’d
Thy comely feature in her visage bare.
Spare then thy self, if her thou wilt not spare.
Ill may it seem what thine own strength begot
With foul reproach and shame thus to besmear,
And through thy zeal thine own great name to blot:
To two so worthy wights befall some better lot.
121
Thus in my youth, said Mnemon, did I use
With Reverend Ignorance to sport and toy,
And slily would obnoxious Age abuse;
For I was a crank wit, a brisk young boy;
But naturally abhorr’d hypocrisie,
And craft the upshot of experienc’d Age;
And more then life I lov’d my liberty,
And much suspected all that would engage
My heart to their own sect, and free-born soul encage.
122
For I ev’n at those years was well aware
Of mans false friendship, and grown subtilty,
Which made me snuf the wind, drink the free aire
Like a young Colt upon the mountains high,
And turning tail my hunters all defie.
Ne took I any guide but th’ innate light
Of my true Conscience, whose voice to deny,
Was the sole sting of my offended spright:
Thus God and Nature taught their rude Cosmopolite.
<46>
123
I mean not Naturse harsh obdurate light,
The shamelesse eye-brows of the Serpent old,
That arm’d with custome will not stick to fight
With God and him affront with courage bold:
But that sweet temper we may oft behold
In virgin Youth as yet immaculate;
And unto drudging Policy unsold,
Who do without designe, now love, now hate
And freely give and take withouten price or rate.
124
Dear lads! How do I love your harmlesse years
And melt in heart while I the Morning-shine
Do view of rising virtue which appears
In your sweet faces, and mild modest eyne,
Adore that God that doth himself enshrine
In your untainted breasts; and give no eare
To wicked voice that may your souls encline
Unto false peace, or unto fruitlesse fear,
Least loosened from your selves Harpyes away you bear.
125
Abstain from censure, seek and you shall find,
Drink your own waters drawn from living well,
Mend in your selves what ill elsewhere you mind,
Deal so with men as you would have them deal,
Honour the Aged that it may go well
With you in Age: For I my self indeed
Have born much scorn for these pranks, I you tell,
By boyes oft bearded, which I deem the meed
Of my abusive youth. But now I will preceed.
126
By this we came into a way that did
Divide it self into three parts; the one
To Leontopolis; that in the mid
Did lead straight forth out of wide Beïron,
That was the way that I mought take alone;
The third way led unto Onopolis,
And thitherward Don Psittaco put on.
With both these towns Alopecopolis
Is in firm league, and golden Myrmecopolis.
<47>
127
For nothing they attempt without the aid
Of these two Cities. They'll not wagen war,
Nor peace conclude, nor permit any trade,
Nor make decrees, nor slake the civil jar,
Nor take up private wrongs, nor plead at bar,
Nor Temples consecrate, nor Mattins say;
They nought begin divine or secular,
But they advisen with those Cities tway.
O potent Citizens that bear so great a sway!
128
No truth of justice in Beïrah lond:
No sincere faith void of slie subtilty,
That alwayes seeks it self, is to be found;
But law delusion and false Polity,
False Polity that into Tyrannie
Would quickly wend, did not stern Fear restrain
And keep in aw. Th' Onites Democracy
Is nought but a large hungry tyrant-train:
Oppression from the poore is an all-sweeping rain.
129
A sweeping torrent that beats down the corn,
And wasts the oxens labour, head-long throws
The tallest trees up by the root ytorn,
Its ranging force in all the land it shows;
Woods rent from hence, its rowling rage bestows
In other places that were bare before,
With muddied arms of trees the earth it strows;
The list'ning shepherd is amazed sore,
While it with swift descent so hideously doth rore.
130
Such is the out-rage of Democracie,
When fearlesse it doth rule in Beïrah:
And little better is false Monarchy,
When it in this same countrey bears the sway.
(Is 't not a part of Autæsthesia?)
So to an inward sucking whirlpools close
They change this swelling torrents surquedry,
Much treasure it draws in, and doth inclose
In 'ts winding mouth, but whither then, there's no man knows.
<48>
131
O falsest Beïronites, what gars you plain
One of another, and vainly accuse,
Of foul offence? when you all entertain
Tyrannick thoughts. You all alike do muse
Of your own private good, though with abuse
Of those you can tread down with safety,
No way to wealth or honour you refuse.
Faise Onople doth grudge, and grone, and cry,
Because she is denied a greater tyranny.
132
Two of that City whylom on the way,
With languid lugs, and count'nance gravely sad,
Did deeply sigh, and rudely rough did bray
’Gainst Leontopolis. The equall pad
Of justice now, alas! is seldome trad,
Said they; The Lions might is law and right.
Where's love or mercy now? with that out strad
A little dog, his dames onely delight,
And ran near to their tails, and bark'd with all his might.
133
The surly irefull Onopolitan
Without all mercy kickt with yron heel
The little bawling curre, that at him ran;
It made his feeble corse to th' earth to reel,
That was so pierc'd with the imprinted steel,
That it might grieve an heart of flinty stone.
No herbs, no salves the breach could ever heal;
The good old wife did then keep house alone,
False hearted carles, is this your great compassion?
134
There's no society in Behïrah,
But beastlike grazing in one pasture ground.
No love but of the animated clay
With beauties fading flowers trimly crown’d,
Or from strong sympathies heart-striking stound.
No order but what riches strength and wit
Prescribe. So bad the good eas'ly confound.
Is Honesty in such unruly fit
That it's held in no rank? they 'steem it not a whit.
<49>
135
But I am weary of this uncouth place;
If any man their bad condition
And brutish manners listeth for to trace,
We may them reade in the creation
Of this wide Sensible; where every passion
Of birds and beasts distinctly do display
To but an ord'nary imagination,
The life and soul of them in Behïrah:
This Behïrah that hight the greater Adamah.
136
The swelling hatefull Toad, industrious Ant,
Lascivious Goat, Parrot, or prating Py,
The kingly Lion, docil Elephant,
All-imitating Ape, gay Butterfly,
The crafty Fox famous for subtilty,
Majestick Horse, the beast that twixt two trees
(A fit resemblance of full gluttony)
When he hath fil'd his gorge, himself doth squeeze
To feed afresh, Court Spaniels, and politick Bees;
137
With many more which I list not repeat;
Some foul, some fair: to th' fair the name they give
Of holy virtues; but 'tis but deceit,
None in Beïron virtuously do live;
None in that land so much as ever strive
For truth of virtue, though sometimes they wont,
As Swine do Swine, their own blood to relieve.
Beïron’s all bruits, the true manhood they want,
If outward form you pierce with phansie fulminant.
138
So having got experience enough
Of this ill land, for nothing there was new,
My purpose I held on, and rode quite through
That middle way, and did th' extremes eschew.
When I came near the end there was in view
No passage: for the wall was very high,
But there no doore to me it self did shew:
Looking about at length I did espy
A lively youth, to whom I presently gan cry.
<50>
139
More willing he's to come then I to call:
Simon he hight, who also's cal'd a Rock:
Simon is that obedientiall
Nature, who boysterous seas and winds doth mock;
No tempest can him move with fiercest shock;
The house that's thereon built doth surely stand:
Nor blustring storm, nor rapid torrents stroke
Can make it fall; it easily doth withstand
The gates of Death and Hell, and all the Stygian band.
140
When I gan call, forthwith in seemly sort
He me approch'd in decent russet clad,
More fit for labour then the flaunting Court.
When he came near, in chearfull wise he bad
Tell what I would: then I unto the lad
Gan thus reply; alas! too long astray
Here have I trampled foul Behïrons pad:
Out of this land I thought this the next way,
But I no gate can find, so vain is mine assay.
141
Then the wise youth, Good Sir, you look too high:
The wall aloft is rais’d; but that same doore
Where you must passe in deep descent doth lie:
But he bad follow, he would go before.
Hard by there was a place, all covered o're
With stinging nettles and such weedery,
The pricking thistles the hard'st legs would gore,
Under the vvall a straight doore we descry;
The wall hight Self-conceit; the doore Humility.
142
When we came at the doore fast lockt it was,
And Simon had the key, but he nould grant
That I into that other land should passe,
Without I made him my Concomitant.
It pleas'd me well, I mus'd not much upon 't,
But straight accord: for why? a jolly Swain
Me thought he was; meek, chearfull and pleasant.
When he saw this, he thus to me again,
Sir, See you that sad couple? Then I; I see those twain.
<51>
143
A sorry couple certainly they be.
The man a bloody knife holds at his heart
With chearlesse countenance, as sad is she.
Or eld, or else intolerable smart,
Which she cannot decline by any Art,
Doth thus distort and writh her wrinkled face;
A leaden Quadrate swayes hard on that part
That's fit for burdens; foulnesse doth deface
Her aged looks; with a strait staff her steps she stayes.
144
Right well you say, then said that lusty Swain:
Yet this poore couple be my Parents dear;
Nor I can hence depart without these twain:
These twain give life to me, though void of chear
They be themselves. Then let's all go yfere.
The young mans speech caus'd sad perplexity
Within my brest, but yet I did forbear,
And fairly ask'd their names. He answered me:
He Autaparnes hight; but she Hypomone.
145
I Simon am the son of this sad pair,
Who though full harsh they seem to outward sight;
Yet when to Dizoie men forth do fare,
No company in all the land so meet
They find as these. Their pace full well I weet,
Is very slow, and so to youthfull haste
Displeasing, and their counsels nothing sweet
To any Beïronite: but sweetest taste
Doth bitter choler breed, and haste doth maken waste.
146
Nor let that breast impierc'd with weeping wound,
An uncouth spectacle, disturb your mind.
His blood's my food: If he his life effund
To utmost death, the high God hath design'd
That we both live. He in my heart shall find
A seat for his transfused soul to dwell;
And when that's done, this death doth eke unbind
That heavie weight that doth Hypom’ne quell,
Then I Anautæsthetus hight, which seems me well.
<52>
147
So both their lives do vanish into mine,
And mine into Atuvus life doth melt,
Which fading flux of time doth not define,
Nor is by any Autæsthesian felt.
This life to On the good Atuvus delt;
In it's all Joy, Truth, Knowledge, Love and Force;
Such force no wight created can repel't.
All strength and livelyhood is from this sourse,
All Lives to this first spring have circular recourse.
148
A lecture strange he seem’d to read to me;
And though I did not rightly understand
His meaning, yet I deemed it to be
Some goodly thing, and weary of that land
Where then I stood, I did not him withstand
In his request, although full loth I were
Slow-footed eld the journey should command;
Yet we were guided by that sorry pair,
And so to Dizoie full softly we do fare.
<53>
The Argument of
PSYCHOZOIA,
Or
The life of the Soul.
CANT. III.
Strange state of Dizoie Mnemons skill
Here wisely doth explain,
Ida's strong charms, and Eloim-hill,
With the drad dale of Ain.
1
BUt now new Stories I 'gin to relate,
Which aged Mnemon unto us did tell,
Whiles we on grassie bed did lie prostrate
Under a shady Beach, which did repell
The fiery scorching shafts which Uriel
From Southern quarter darted with strong hand.
No other help we had; for Gabriel
His wholesome cooling blasts then quite restrain'd.
The Lions flaming breath with heat parch’d all the Land.
2
Here seemly sitting down thus gan that Sage,
Last time we were together here ymet,
Beïrah wall, that was the utmost stage
Of our discourse, if I do not forget:
When we departed thence the Sun was set,
Yet nathelesse we past that lofty wall
That very Evening. The Nights nimble net
That doth encompasse every opake ball,
That swim’s in liquid aire, did Simon nought apall.
<54>
3
When we that stately wall had undercrept,
We straightway found our selves in Dizoïe:
The melting clouds chill drizzeling tears then wept;
The mistie aire swet for deep agony,
Swet a cold sweat, and loose frigiditie
Fill'd all with a white smoke; pale Cynthia
Did foul her silver limbs with filthy die,
Whiles wading on she measured out her way,
And cut the muddy heavens defil'd with whitish clay.
4
No light to guide but the Moons pallid ray,
And that even lost in mistie troubled aire:
No tract to take, there was no beaten way;
No chearing strength, but that which might appear
From Dians face; her face then shin'd not clear,
And when it shineth clearest, little might
She yieldeth, yet the goddesse is severe.
Hence wrathfull dogs do bark at her dead light:
Christ help the man thus clos'd and prison'd in drad Night.
5
O'rewhelm'd with irksome toyl of strange annoyes
In stony stound like senselesse stake I stood,
Till the vast thumps of massie hammers noise,
That on the groning steel laid on such lode,
Empierc'd mine ears in that sad stupid mood.
I weening then some harbour to be nigh,
In sory pace thitherward slowly yode,
By eare directed more then by mine eye,
But there, alas! I found small hospitality.
6
Foure grisly Black-smiths stoutly did their task
Upon an anvile form'd in Conick wise.
They neither minded who, nor what I ask,
But with stern grimy look do still avise
Upon their works; but I my first emprise
Would not forsake, and therefore venture in.
Or none hath list to speak, or none espies,
Or hears; the heavy hammers never lin;
And but a blew faint light in this black shop did shine.
<55>
7
There I into a darksome corner creep,
And lay my weary limbs on dusty flore,
Expecting still when soft down-sliding sleep
Should seize mine eyes, and strength to me restore:
But when with hovering wings she ’proch'd, e'rmore
The mighty souses those foul knaves laid on,
And those huge bellows that aloud did rore,
Chac'd her away that she was ever gone
Before she came, on pitchy plumes, for fear, yflone.
8
The first of those rude rascalls Lypon hight,
A foul great stooping slouch with heavie eyes,
And hanging lip: the second ugly sight
Pale Phobon, with his hedgehog-haires disguise.
Aelpon is the third, he the false skies
No longer trusts: The fourth of furious fashion
Phrenition hight, fraught with impatiencies,
The bellows be ycleep'd deep Suspiration:
Each knave these bellows blow in mutuall circulation.
9
There is a number of these lonesome forges
In Bacha vale (this was in Bacha vale)
There be no Innes but these, and these but scourges;
In stead of ease they work much deadly bale
To those that in this lowly trench do trale
Their feeble loins. Ah me! who here would fare?
Sad ghosts oft crosse the way with visage pale,
Sharp thorns and thistles wound their feeten bare:
Yet happy is the man that here doth bear a share.
10
When I in this sad vale no little time
Had measured, and oft had taken Inne,
And by long penance paid for mine ill crime
Methought the Sunne it self began to shine,
And that I’d past Diana’s discipline.
But day was not yet come, 'twas perfect night:
I Phœbus head from Ida hill had seen;
For Ida hill doth give to men the sight,
Of Phœbus form, before Aurora’s silver light.
<56>
11
But Phœbus form from that high hill's not clear
Nor figure perfect. It's inveloped
In purple cloudy veil; and if 't appear
In rounder shape with skouling dreary head
A glowing face it shows, ne rayes doth shed
Of lights serenity, yet duller eyes
With gazing on this irefull sight be fed
Best to their pleasing; small things they will prise
That never better saw, nor better can devise.
12
On Ida hill their stands a Castle strong,
They that it built call it Pantheothen.
(Hither resort a rascall rabble throng
Of miscreant wights;) but if that wiser men
May name that Fort, Pandæmoniothen
They would it cleep. It is the strong'st delusion
That ever Dæmon wrought; the safest pen
That e're held silly sheep for their confusion.
Ill life and want of love, hence springs each false conclusion.
13
That rabble rout that in this Castle won,
Is irefull-ignorance, Unseemly-zeal,
Strong-self-conceit, Rotten-religion,
Contentious-reproch-'gainst-Michael-
If-he-of-Moses-body-ought-reveal-
Which-their-dull-skonses-cannot eas'ly-reach,
Love-of-the-carkas, An Inept-appeal-
T' uncertain papyrs, A-False-formall-fetch-
Of-seigned-sighes, Contempt-of poore-and-sinfull-wretch.
14
A deep self-love, Want of true sympathy-
With all mankind, Th'admiring their own heard,
Fond pride, A sanctimonious cruelty
'Gainst those, by whom their wrathfull minds be stird
By strangling reason, and are so afeard
To lose their credit with the vulgar sort;
Opinion and long speech 'fore life preferr'd,
Lesse reverence of God then of the Court,
Fear, and despair, Evill surmises, False report:
<57>
15
Oppression-of-the-poore, Fell-rigourousnesse,
Contempt-of-Government, Fiercenesse, Fleshly lust,
The-measuring-of all-true righteousnesse
By-their own-model, Cleaving unto-dust,
Rash-censure, and despising-of-the-just-
That-are-not-of-their-sect, False-reasoning-
Concerning-God, Vain-hope, needlesse mistrust,
Strutting-in knowledge, Egre slavering-
After hid-skill, with every inward uncouth thing.
16
These and such like be that rude Regiment,
That from the glittering sword of Michae’l fly:
They fly his outstretch'd arm, else were they shent
If they unto this Castle did not hie,
Strongly within its walls to fortifie
Themselves: Great Dæmon hath no stronger hold
Then this high Tower. When the good Majesty
Shines forth in love and light, a vapour cold
And a black hellish smoke from hence doth all infold:
17
And all that love and light and offer'd might
Is thus chok'd up in that foul Stygian steem:
If Hells dark jawes should open in despight,
And breath its inmost breath which foul'st I deem;
Yet this more deadly foul I do esteem,
And more contagious, which this charmed tower
Ever spues forth, like that fell Dragons steem
Which he from poyson'd mouth in rage did poure
At her, whose first-born child his chaps might not devour.
18
But lest the rasher wit my Muse should blame,
As if she did those faults appropriate
(Which I even now in that black list did name)
Unto Pantheothen; The self same state
I dare avouch you'll find, where ever Hate
Back’d with rough zeal, and bold through want of skill,
All sects besides its own doth execrate.
This peevish spright with wo the world doth fill,
While each man all would bind to his fierce furious will.
<58>
19
O Hate! the fulsome daughter of fell Pride;
Sister to surly Superstition,
That clear out-shining Truth cannot abide,
That loves it self and large Dominion,
And in false show of a fair Union
Would all encroch to 't self, would purchase all
At a cheap rate, for slight Opinion.
Thus cram they their wide-gaping Crumenall:
But now to Ida hill me lists my feet recall.
20
No such inchantment in all Dizoie
As on this hill; nor sadder sight was seen
Then you may in this rufull place espy.
'Twixt two huge walls on solitary Green,
Of funerall Cypresse many groves there been,
And eke of Ewe, Eben, and Poppy trees:
And in their gloomy shade foul grisly fiend
Use to resort, and busily to seize
The darker phansied souls that live in ill disease.
21
Hence you may see, if that you dare to mind,
Upon the side of this accursed hil,
Many a dreadfull corse ytost in wind,
Which with hard halter their loathd life did spill.
There lies another which himself did kill
With rusty knife, all roll'd in his own blood,
And ever and anon a dolefull knill
Comes from the fatall Owl, that in sad mood
With drery sound doth pierce through the death-shadowed wood.
22
Who can expresse with pen the irksome state
Of those that be in this strong Castle thrall?
Yet hard it is this Fort to ruinate,
It is so strongly fenc'd with double wall.
The fiercest but of Ram no'te make them fall:
The first Inevitable Destiny
Of Gods Decree; the other we do call
Invincible fleshly Infirmitie:
But Keeper of the Tower’s unfelt Hypocrisie.
<59>
23
What Poets phancies fain'd to be in Hell
Are truly here, A Vulture Tytius heart
Still gnaws, yet death doth never Tityus quell:
Sad Sisyphus a stone with toylsome smart
Doth roul up hill, but it transcends his art,
To get it to the top, where it may lye,
On steddy Plain, and never backward start,
His course is stopt by strong Infirmity.
His roul comes to this wall, but then back it doth fly.
24
Here fifty Sisters in a sieve do draw
Thorough-siping water: Tantalus is here,
Who though the glory of the Lord ore-flow
The earth, and doth incompasse him so near,
Yet waters he, in waters doth requere.
Stoop Tantalus and take those waters in.
What strength of witchcraft thus blinds all yfere
Twixt these two massie walls, this hold of sinne?
Aye me! who shall this Fort so strongly fenced win!
25
I hear the clattering of an armed troup.
My ears do ring with the strong prancers heels.
(My soul get up out of thy drousie droop,
And look unto the everlasting Hills)
The hollow ground, ah! how my sense it fills
With sound of solid horses hoofs. A wonder
It is, to think how cold my spirit thrills,
With strange amaze. Who can this strength dissunder?
Hark how the warlike Steeds do neigh, their necks do thunder.
26
All Milkwhite Steeds in trappings goodly gay,
On which in golden letters be ywrit
These words (even he that runs it readen may)
True righteousnesse unto the Lord of might.
O comely spectacle! O glorious sight!
'Twould easily ravish the beholders eye
To see such beasts, so fair, so full of spright,
All in due ranks to pranse so gallantly,
Bearing their riders arm'd with perfect panoply.
<60>
27
In perfect silver glistring panoply
They ride, the army of the highest God.
Ten thousands of his Saints approchen nie,
To judge the world, and rule it with his rod.
They leave all plain whereever they have trod.
Each Rider on his shield doth bear the Sun
With golden shining beam dispread abroad,
The Sun of righteousnesse at high day noon,
By this same strength, I ween, this Fort is easily wonne.
28
They that but hear thereof shall straight obey;
But the strange children shall false semblance make,
But all hypocrisie shall soon decay,
All wickednesse into that deadly lake,
All darknesse thither shall it self betake.
That false brood shall in their close places fade.
The glory of the Lord shall ne're forsake
The earth again, nor shall deaths dreadfull shade
Return again. Him praise that this great day hath made.
29
This is the mighty warlick Michaels host,
That easily shall wade through that foul spue
Which the false Dragon casts in every coast,
That the moon-trampling woman much doth rue
His deadly spaul; but no hurt doth accrew
To this strong army from this filthy steam.
Nor horse nor man doth fear its lutid hew.
They safely both can swim in this foul stream;
This stream the Earth sups up cleft ope by Michaels beam.
30
But whiles it beareth sway, this poysons might
Is to make sterill or prolong the birth,
To cause cold palsies, and to dull the sight
By sleepy sloth; the melancholick earth
It doth increase, that hinders all good mirth.
Yet this dead liquor dull Pantheothen
Before the nectar of the Gods preferr'th.
But it so weakens and disables men,
That they of manhood give no goodly specimen.
<61>
31
Here one of us began to interpeal
Old Mnemon. Tharrhon that young ladkin hight,
He prayed this aged Sire for to reveal
What way this Dragons poysonous despight,
And strong Pantheothens inwalling might,
We may escape. Then Mnemon thus gan say;
Some strange devise, I know, each youthfull wight
Would here expect, or lofty brave assay:
But I'll the simple truth, in simple wise convey.
32
Good Conscience, kept with all the strength and might
That God already unto us hath given;
A presse pursuit of that foregoing light
That egs us on 'cording to what we have liven,
And helps us on 'cording to what we have striven,
To shaken off the bonds of prejudice,
Nor dote to much of that we have first conceiven;
By hearty prayer to beg the sweet delice
Of Gods all-loving spright: such things I you aduise.
34
Can pity move the hearts of parents dear,
When that their haplesse child in heavie plight
Doth grieve and moan! whiles pinching tortures tear
His fainting life, and doth not that sad sight
Of Gods own Sonne empassion his good spright
With deeper sorrow? The tender babe lies torn
In us by cruell wounds from hostile might:
Is Gods own life of God himself forlorn?
Or was he to continuall pain of God yborn?
34
Or will you say if this be Gods own Sonne,
Let him descend the Crosse: for well we ween
That he'll not suffer him to be fordonne
By wicked hand, if Gods own Sonne he been.
But you have not those sacred mysteries seen,
True-crucifying Jews! The weaker thing
Is held in great contempt in worldly eyen:
But time may come when deep impierced sting
Shall prick your heart, and it shall melt with sorrowing.
<62>
35
Then you shall view him whom with cruell spear
You had transfix'd, true crucified Sonne
Of the true God, unto his Father dear,
And dear to you, nought dearer under Sun.
Through this strong love and deep compassion,
How vastly God his Kingdome would enlarge
You'll easily see, and how with strong iron
He'll quite subdue the utmost earthly verge.
O foolish men! the heavens why do you fondly charge?
36
Subtimidus, when Tharrhon sped so well,
Took courage to himself, and thus gan say
To Mnemon; Pray you Sir vouchsafe to tell
What Autaparnes and Hypomene
And Simon do this while in Dizoie.
With that his face shone like the rosi Morn
With maiden blush from inward modesty,
Which wicked wights do holden in such scorn,
Sweet harmlesse Modesty a rose withouten thorn!
37
Old Mnemon lov'd the Lad even from his face,
Which blamelesse blush with sanguin light had dyed;
His harmlesse lucid spright with flouring grace
His outward form so seemly beautified.
So the old man him highly magnified
For his so fit inquiry of those three;
And to his question thus anon replyed,
There's small recourse (till that Fort passed be)
To Simon Autaparnes or Hypomene.
38
For all that space from Behïrons high wall
Unto Pantheothen, none dares arise
From his base dunghill warmth; such Magicall
Attraction his flagging soul down ties
To his foul flesh: 'mongst which, alas! there lyes
A litle spark of Gods vitality,
But smoreing filth so close it doth comprize
That it cannot flame out nor get on high:
This Province hence is hight earth-groveling Aptery.
<63>
39
But yet fair semblances these Apterites
Do make of good, and sighen very sore,
That God no stronger is. False hypocrites.
You make no use of that great plenteous store
Of Gods good strength which he doth on you poure.
But you fast friends of foul carnality,
And false to God, his tender sonne do gore,
And plaud your selves, if 't be not mortally;
Nor let you him live in ease, nor let you him fairly die.
40
Like faithlesse wife that by her frampard guize,
Peevish demeanour, sullen sad disdain
Doth inly deep the spright melancholize
Of her aggrieved husband, and long pain
At last to some sharp sicknesse doth constrain
His weakned nature to yield victory:
His scorching torture then count death a gain.
But when Death comes, in womanish phrensie
That froward femall wretch doth shreek and loudly cry.
41
So through her moody importunity
From down right death she rescues the poore man:
Self favouring sense; not that due loyaltie
Doth wring from her this false compassion,
Compassion that no cruelty can
Well equalize. Her husband lies agast;
Death on his horrid face so pale and wan
Doth creep with ashy wings. He thus embrac'd
Perforce too many dayes in deadly wo doth wast.
42
This is the love that's found in Aptery
To Gods dear life. If they his Son present
Half live, half dead, handled despightfully,
Or sunk in sicknesse, or with deep wound rent,
So be he's not quite dead they'r well content.
And hope sure favour of his Sire to have.
They have the signes how can they then be shent?
The God of love for his dear life us save
From such conceits, which men to sinne do thus inslave.
<64>
43
But when from Aptery we were ygone,
And past Pantheothens inthralling power;
Then from the East chearfull Eous shone,
And drave away the Nights dead lumpish stour:
He took by th' hand Aurora's vernall hour;
These freshly tripp'd it on the silver hills,
And thorow all the fields sweet life did shower:
Then gan the joyfull birds to try their skills;
They skipt, they chirpt amain, they pip'd, they danc'd their fills.
44
This other Province of Dizoia
Hight Pteroessa. On the flowry side
Of a green bank, as I went on my way
Strong youthfull Gabriel I there espide,
Courting a Nymph all in her maiden pride,
Not for himself: His strife was her to win
To Michael, in wedlock to be tide,
He promised she should be Michaels Queen,
And greater things then eare hath heard, or eye hath seen:
45
This lovely Maid to Gabriel thus replide,
Thanks, Sir, for your good news; but may I know
Who Michael is, that would have me his Bride?
Its Michael, said he, that works such woe
To all that fry of Hell; and on his foe
Those fiends of darknesse such great triumphs hath:
The powers of sin and death he down doth mow.
In this strong Arm of God have thou but faith,
That in great Dæmons troups doth work so wondrous scath.
46
The simple Girl believed every word,
Nor did by subtle querks elude the might
And proferr'd strength of the soul-loving Lord;
But answered thus, Good Sir, but reade aright
When shall I then appear in Michaels sight?
When Gabriel had won her full assent,
And well observ'd how he had flam'd her spright,
He answered, After the complishment
Of his behests, and so her told what hests he ment.
<65>
47
She willingly took the condition,
And pliable she promised to be;
And Gabriel sware he would wait upon
Her Virginship, whiles in simplicity
His masters will with all good industry
She would fullfill. So here the simple Maid
Strove for her self in all fidelity,
Nor took her self for nothing; but she plaid
Her part, she thought, as if Indentures had been made.
48
For she did not with her own self gin think
So curiously, that it is God alone
That gives both strengths when ever we do swink:
Graces and natures might be both from one,
Who is our lifes strong sustentation.
Impossible it is therefore to merit,
When we poore men have nothing of our own:
Certes by him alone she stands upright;
And surely falls without his help in per'lous fight:
49
But we went on in Peteroessa lond.
The fresh bright Morning was no small repast
After the toil in Aptery we found,
So that with merry chear we went full fast:
But I observed well that in this haste
Simon wax'd faint, and feeble, and decay'd,
In strength and life before we far had past:
And by how much his youthfull flower did fade,
So much more vigour to his parents was repai'd.
50
For that old crumpled wight gan go upstraight,
And Autaparnes face recovered blood!
But Simon looked pale withouten might,
Withouten chear, or joy, or livelyhood:
Cause of all this at last I understood.
For Autaparn that knife had from him cast,
And almost clos'd the passage of that flood.
That flood, that blood, was that which Simons taste
Alone could fit; if that were gone the lad did waste.
<66>
51
And his old mother, call'd Hypomone,
Did ease her back from that down-swaying weight,
That leaden Quadrate, which did miserably
Annoy her crasie corse; but that more light
She might fare on, she in her husbands sight
Threw down her load, where he threw down his blade,
And from that time began the pitious plight
Of sickly Simon: so we them perswade
Back to retreat, and do their dying son some aid.
52
Though loth, yet at the length they do assent:
So we return unto the place where lay
The heavy Quadrate, and that instrument
Of bleeding smart. It would a man dismay
To think how that square lead her back did sway;
And how the half-clos'd wound was open tore
With that sharp-pointed knife: and sooth to say
Simon himself was inly grieved sore,
Seeing the deadly smart that his dear parents bore.
53
So we remeasure the way we had gone,
Still fareing on toward Theoprepy.
Great strength and comfort 'twas to think upon
Our good escape from listlesse Aptery,
And from the thraldome of Infirmity.
Now nought perplex'd our stronger plumed spright,
But what may be the blamelesse verity:
Oft we conceiv'd things were peracted right:
And oft we found ourselves guld with strong passions might.
54
But now more feeble farre we find their force
Then erst it was, when as in Aptery
To strong Pantheothen they had recourse:
For then a plain impossibility
It was to overcome their cruelty.
But here encouraged by Gabriel
We strongly trust to have the victory.
And if by chance they do our forces quell;
It's not by strength of armes, but by some misty spell.
<76>
55
So bravely we went on withouten dread,
Till at the last we came whereas a hill
With steep ascent highly lift up his head:
To th' aged hoof it worken would much ill
To climb this cliff; with weary ach 't would fill
His drier bones. But yet it's smooth and plain
Upon the top. It passeth farre my skill
The springs, the bowers, the walks, the goodly train
Of fair chaste Nymphes that haunt that place, for to explain.
56
I saw three sisters there in seemly wise
Together walking on the flowry Green,
Yclad in snowy stoles of fair agguize.
The glistring streams of silver waving shine,
Skillfully interwove with silken line,
So variously did play in that fair vest,
That much it did delight my wondring eyne:
Their face with Love and Vigour was ydrest,
With Modesty and Joy; their tongue with just behest:
57
Their locks hung loose. A triple coronet
Of flaming gold and star-like twinkling stone
Of highest price, was on their temples set:
The Amethist, the radiant Diamond,
The Jasper, enemy to spirits won,
With many other glorious for to see.
These three enameld rimmes of that fair Crown
Be these: the first hight Dicæosyne,
Philosophy the next, the last stiff Apathy.
58
I gaz'd, and mus'd and was well nigh distraught
With admiration of those three maids,
And could no further get, ne further saught;
Down on the hill my weary limbes I laid,
And fed my feeble eyes, which me betray'd
Unto Loves bondage. Simon lik'd it not
To see me so bewitch’d, and thus assay'd
By wisest speech to loose this Magick knot:
Great pity things so fair should have so foul a spot:
<68>
59
What spot, said I, can in these fair be found?
Both spot in those white vests, and eke a flaw
In those bright gems wherewith these Maids be crown'd,
If you'll but list to see, I'll eas’ly show.
Then I, both Love of man and holy law
Exactly's kept upon this sacred hill;
True Fortitude that truest foes doth awe,
Justice and Abstinence from sweetest ill,
And Wisedome like the Sun doth all with light o're spill.
60
Thanks be to God we are so well ariv'd
To the long-sought for land, Theoprepy.
Nay soft good Sir, said Simon, you'r deceiv'd,
You are not yet past through Autæsthesy:
With that the spot and flaw he bad me see
Which he descry'd in that goodly array.
The spot and flaw self-sens'd Autopathy
Was hight, the eldest nymph Pythagorissa,
Next Platonissa hight; the last hight Stoicissa.
61
But this high Mount where these three sisters wonne,
Said Simon, cleeped is, Har-Eloim.
To these it’s said, Do worship to my Sonne:
It’s right, that all the Gods do worship him,
There's none exempt: those that the highest climbe
Are but his Ministers, their turns they take
To serve as well as those of lower slime.
What so is not of Christ but doth partake
Of th' Autæsthesian soil, is life Dæmoniake.
62
His words did strangely work upon my spright,
And wean'd my mind from that I dearly lov'd;
So I nould dwell on this so pleasing sight,
But down descended, as it me behov'd,
And as my trusty guide me friendly mov'd.
So when we down had come, and thence did passe
On the low plain, Simon more clearly prov'd,
That though much beauty there and goodnesse was,
Yet that in Theoprepia did far surpasse.
<69>
63
So forward on we fare, and leave that hill,
And presse still further, the further we go,
Simon more strength, more life and godly will,
More vigour he and livelyhood did show;
But Autaparnes wox more wan and wo:
He faints, he sinks, ready to give up ghost,
And ag'd Hypom’ne trod with footing slow,
And stagger’d with her load; so ill dispos'd
Their fading spirits were, that life was well nigh lost.
64
By this in sight of that black wall we came,
A wall by stone-artificer not made:
For it is nought but smoke from duskish flame;
Which in that low deep valleys pitchy shade
Doth fiercely th' Autopathian life invade,
With glowing heat, and eateth out that spot.
This dreadfull triall many hath dismaid;
When Autaparnes saw this was his lot,
Fear did his sense benum, he wox like earthly clot.
65
In solemn silency this vapour rose
From this dread Dale, and hid the Eastern sky
With its deep darknesse, and the Evening-close
Forestall'd with Stygian obscurity;
Yet was't not thick, nor thin, nor moist, nor dry;
Nor stank it ill, nor yet gave fragrant smell,
Nor did ’t take in through pellucidity
The penetrating light, nor did ’t repell
Through grosse opacity the beams of Michael.
66
Yet terrible it is to Psyche’s brood,
That still retain the life Dæmoniake;
Constraining fear calls in their vitall flood,
When the drad Magus once doth mention make
Of the deep dark Abysse; for fear they quake
At that strong-awing word: But they that die
Unto self feeling life, naught shall them shake;
Base fear proceeds from weak Autopathy.
This dale hight Ain, the fumes hight Anautæsthesy.
<70>
67
Into this dismall Dale we all descend.
Here Autæparnes and Hypomone
Their languid life with that dark vapour blend.
Thus perished fading vitality,
But nought did fade of Lifes reality.
When these two old ones their last gasp had fet,
In this drad valley their dead corps did lie;
But what could well be sav'd to Simon flet.
Here Simon first became spotlesse Anautæsthet.
68
When we had waded quite through this deep shade,
We then appear’d in bright Theoprepy:
Here Phœbus ray in straightest line was laid,
That earst lay broke in grosse consistency
Of cloudy substance. For strong sympathy
Of the divided natures Magick band
Was burn’t to dust in Anautæsthesie:
Now there's no fear of Death’s dart-holding hand:
Fast love, fix’d life, firm peace in Theoprepia land.
69
When Mnemon hither came, he leaned back
Upon his seat, and a long time respired.
When I perceiv'd this holy Sage so slack
To speak (well as I might) I him desired
Still to hold on, if so he were not tired,
And tell what fell in blest Theoprepy;
But he nould do the thing that I required,
Too hard it is, said he, that kingdomes glee
To show; who list to know himself must come and see.
70
This story under the cool shadowing Beach
Old Mnemon told of famous Dizoie:
To set down all he said passeth my reach,
That all would reach even to infinity.
Strange things he spake of the biformity
Of the Dizoïans; What mongrill sort
Of living wights; how monstrous shap'd they be,
And how that man and beast in one consort;
Goats britch, mans tongue, goose head, with monki's mouth distort.
<71>
71
Of Centaures, Cynocephals, walking trees,
Tritons, and Mermayds, and such uncouth things;
Or weeping Serpents with fair womans eyes,
Mad-making waters, sex transforming springs;
Of foul Circean swine with golden rings,
With many such like falshoods; but the streight
Will easily judge all crooked wanderings.
Suffice it then we have taught that ruling Right,
The Good is uniform, the Evil infinite.
Cite as: Henry More, Psychozoia, 2nd ed., from Philosophicall Poems (1647), pp. B7r-71, https://www.cambridge-platonism.divinity.cam.ac.uk/view/texts/diplomatic/More1647B-excerpt002, accessed 2024-11-21.