Cl.Melamy dear! why been thy looks so sadAs if thy gentle heart were sunk with care?Impart thy case; for be it good or badFriendship in either will bear equall share.Mel.Not so;Cleanthes, for if bad it beMy self must bleed afresh by wounding thee.But what it is, my slow, uncertain witCannot well judge. But thou shalt sentence giveHow manfully of late my self I quit,When with that lordly lad by chance I strive:Cl.Of friendshipMela! let’s that story hear.Mel.Sit downCleanthesthen, and lend thine ear.Upon a day as best did please my mindWalking abroad amidst the verdant fieldScattering my carefull thoughts i’ th’ wanton windThe pleasure of my path so farre had till’dMy feeble feet that without timely restUneath it were to reach my wonted nest.In secret shade farre moved from mortals sightIn lowly dale my wandring limbs I laidOn the cool grasse where Natures pregnant witA goodly bower of thickest trees had made.Amongst the leaves the chearfull birds did fareAnd sweetly carrol’d to the echoing air.Hard at my feet ran down a crystall springWhich did the cumbrous pebbles hoarsly chideFor standing in the way. Though murmuringThe broken stream his course did rightly guideAnd strongly pressing forward with disdainThe grassie flore divided into twain.The place a while did feed my foolish eyeAs being new, and eke mine idle earDid listen oft to that wild harmonieAnd oft my curious phansie would compareHow well agreed the Brooks low muttering Base,With the birds trebbles pearch’d on higher place.But senses objects soon do glut the soul,Or rather weary with their emptinesse;So I, all heedlesse how the waters rollAnd mindlesse of the mirth the birds expresse,Into my self ’gin softly to retireAfter hid heavenly pleasures to enquire.While I this enterprize do entertain;Lo! on the other side in thickest bushesA mighty noise! with that a naked swainWith blew and purple wings streight rudely rushes.He leaps down light upon the flowry green,Like sight before mine eyes had never seen.At’s snowy back the boy a quiver woreRight fairly wrought and gilded all with gold.A silver bow in his left hand he bore,And in his right a ready shaft did hold.Thus armed stood he and betwixt us twayThe labouring brook did break his toilsome way.The wanton lad whose sport is others painDid charge his bended bow with deadly dart,And drawing to the head with might and main,With fell intent he aim’d to hit my heart.But ever as he shot his arrows stillIn their mid course dropt down into the rill.Of wondrous virtues that in waters beenIs needlesse to rehearse, all books do ringOf those strange rarities. But ne’re was seenSuch virtue as resided in this spring.The novelty did make me much admireBut stirr’d the hasty youth to ragefull ire.As heedlesse fowls that take their per’lous flightOver that bane of birds,Averno lake,Do drop down dead: so dead his shafts did lightAmid this stream, which presently did slakeTheir fiery points, and all their feathers wetWhich made the youngster Godling inly fret.Thus lustfull Love (this was that love I ween)Was wholly changed to consuming ire.And eath it was, sith they’re so near a kinThey be both born of one rebellious sire.But he supprest his wrath and by and byFor feathered darts, he winged words let flie:Vain man! said he, and would thou wer’st not vainThat hid’st thy self in solitary shadeAnd spil’st thy precious youth in sad disdainHating this lifes delight! Hath god thee madePart of this world, and wilt not thou partakeOf this worlds pleasure for its makers sake?Unthankfull wretch! Gods gifts thus to rejectAnd maken nought of Natures goodly dowerThat milders still away through thy neglectAnd dying fades like unregarded flower.This life is good, what’s good thou must improve,The highest improvement of this life is love.Had I(butO that envious Destinie,Or Stygian vow, or thrice accursed charmShould in this place free passage thus denieUnto my shafts as messengers ofharm!Had I but once transfixt thy froward breast,How would’st thou then——I staid not for the rest;But thus half angry to the boy replide:How would’st thou then my soul of sense bereave!I blinded, thee more blind should choose my guide!How would’st thou then my muddied mind deceiveWith fading shows, that in my errour vile,Base lust; I love should tearm, vice, virtue stile.How should my wicked rymes then idolizeThy wretched power, and with impious witImpute thy base born passions to the skiesAnd my souls sicknesse count an heavenly fit,My weaknesse strength, my wisdome to be caughtMy bane my blisse, mine ease to be o’rewraught.How often through my fondly feigning mindAnd frantick phansie, in my Mistris eyeShould I a thousand fluttering Cupids findBathing their busie wings? How oft espieUnder the shadow of her eye-brows fairTen thousand Graces sit all naked bare?Thus haunted should I be with such feat fiends:A pretty madnesse were my portion due.Foolish my self I would not hear my friends.Should deem the true for false, the false for true.My way all dark more slippery then iceMy attendents, anger, pride, and jealousies.Unthankfull then to God I should neglectAll the whole world for one poor sorry wight,Whose pestilent eye into my heart projectWould burn like poysonous Comet in my spright.Aye me! how dismall then would prove that dayWhose onely light sprang from so fatall ray.Who seeks for pleasure in this mortall lifeBy diving deep into the body baseShall loose true pleasure: But who gainly striveTheir sinking soul above this bulk to placeEnlarg’d delight they certainly shall findUnbounded joyes to fill their boundlesse mind.When I my self from mine own self do quitAnd each thing else; then an all-spreaden loveTo the vast Universe my soul doth sitMakes me half equall to all-seeing Jove.My mighty wings high stretch’d then clapping lightI brush the starres and make them shine more bright.Then all the works of God with close embraceI dearly hug in my enlarged armsAll the hid paths of heavenly Love I traceAnd boldly listen to his secret charms.Then clearly view I where true light doth rise,And where eternall Night low-pressed lies.Thus lose I not by leaving small delightBut gain more joy, while I my self suspendFrom this and that; for then with all uniteI all enjoy, and love that love commends.That all is more then loves the partiall soulWhose petty loves th’ impartiall fates controll.Ah son! said he, (and laughed very loud)That trickst thy tongue with uncouth strange disguize,Extolling highly that with speeches proudTo mortall men that humane state denies,And rashly blaming what thou never knewLet men experienc’d speak, if they’ll speak true.Had I once lanc’d thy froward flinty heartAnd cruddled bloud had thawn with living fireAnd prickt thy drousie sprite with gentle smartHow wouldst thou wake to kindly sweet desire,Thy soul fill’d up with overflowing pleasuresWould dew thy lips with hony-dropping measures.Then wouldst thou caroll loud and sweetly singIn honour of my sacred DeityThat all the woods and hollow hills would ringReechoing thy heavenly harmonie.And eke the hardy rocks with full reboundsWould faithfully return thy silver sounds.Next unto me would be thy Mistresse fair,Whom thou might setten out with goodly skillHer peerlesse beauty and her virtues rare,That all would wonder at thy gracefull quill.And lastly in us both thy self shouldst raiseAnd crown thy temples with immortall bayes.But now thy riddles all men do neglect,Thy rugged lines of all do lie forlorn.Unwelcome rymes that rudely do detectThe Readers ignorance. Men holden scornTo be so often non-plusd or to spell,And on one stanza a whole age to dwell.Besides this harsh and hard obscuritieOf the hid sense, thy words are barbarousAnd strangely new, and yet too frequentlyReturn, as usuall plain and obvious,So that the show of the new thick-set patchMarres all the old with which it ill doth match.But if thy haughty mind, forsooth, would deignTo stoop so low to hearken to my lore,Then wouldst thou with trim lovers not disdeignTo adorn the outside, set the best before.Nor rub nor wrinkle would thy verses spoilThy rymes should run as glib and smooth as oyl.If that be all, said I, thy reasons slightCan never move my well establishd mind.Full well I wote alwayes the present sprite,Or life that doth possesse the soul, doth blind,Shutting the windows ’gainst broad open dayLest fairer sights its uglinesse bewray.The soul then loves that disposition bestBecause no better comes unto her view.The drunkard drunkennesse, the sluggard rest,Th’ Ambitious honour and obeisance due.So all the rest do love their vices base’Cause virtues beauty comes not into place.And looser love ’gainst Chastitie divineWould shut the door that he might sit alone.Then wholly should my mind to him incline:And woxen strait, (since larger love was gone)That paultrie sprite of low contracting lustWould fit my soul as if ’t were made for ’t just.Then should I with my fellow bird or bruteSo strangely metamorphis’d, either neyOr bellow loud: or if ’t may better suteChirp out my joy pearch’d upon higher spray.My passions fond with impudence rehearse,Immortalize my madnesse in a verse.This is the summe of thy deceiving boastThat I vain ludenesse highly should admire,When I the sense of better things have lostAnd chang’d my heavenly heat for hellish fire,Passion is blind, but virtues piercing eyeApproching danger can from farre espie.And what thou dost Pedantickly objectConcerning my rude rugged uncouth style,As childish toy I manfully neglect,And at thy hidden snares do inly smile.How ill alas! with wisdome it accordsTo sell my living sense for livelesse words.My thought ’s the fittest measure of my tongue,Wherefore I’ll use what’s most significant,And rather then my inward meaning wrongOr my full-shining notion trimly scant,I’ll conjure up old words out of their grave,Or call fresh forrein force in if need crave.And these attending on my moving mindShall duly usher in the fitting sense.As oft as meet occasion I find.Unusuall words oft used give lesse offence;Nor will the old contexture dim or marre,For often us’d they’re next to old, thred-bare.And if the old seem in too rustie hew,Then frequent rubbing makes them shine like gold,And glister all with colour gayly new.Wherefore to use them both we will be bold.Thus lists me fondly with fond folk to toy,And answer fools with equall foolerie.The meaner mind works with more nicetie,As spiders wont to weave their idle web,But braver spirits do all things gallantlyOf lesser failings nought at all affred:So Natures carelesse pencill dipt in lightWith sprinkled starres hath spattered the Night.And if my notions clear though rudely thrownAnd loosely scattered in my poesie,May lend men light till the dead Night be gone,And Morning fresh with roses strew the skie:It is enough, I meant no trimmer frameOr by nice needle-work to seek a name.Vain man! that seekest name mongst earthly menDevoid of God and all good virtuous lere;Who groping in the dark do nothing kenBut mad; with griping care their souls do tear,Or burst with hatred or with envie pineOr burn with rage or melt out at their eyne.Thrice happy he whose name is writ above,And doeth good though gaining infamie;Requiteth evil turns with hearty love,And recks not what befalls him outwardly:Whose worth is in himself, and onely blisseIn his pure conscience that doth nought amisse.Who placeth pleasure in his purged soulAnd virtuous life his treasure doth esteem;Who can his passions masterandcontroll,And that true lordly manlinesse doth deem,Who from this world himself hath clearly quitCounts nought his own but what lives in his sprite.So when his sprite from this vain world shall flitIt bears all with it whatsoever was dearUnto it self, passing in easie fit,As kindly ripen’d corn comes out of th’ eare.Thus mindlesse of what idle men will sayHe takes his own and stilly goes his way.But the retinue of proud Lucifer,Those blustering Poets that flie after fameAnd deck themselves like the bright Morning-starre.Alas! it is but all a crackling flame.For death will strip them of that glorious plumeThat airie blisse will vanish into fume.For can their carefull ghosts from LimbotakeReturn, or listen from the bowed skieTo heare how well their learned lines do take?Or if they could; is Heavens felicitieSo small as by mans praise to be encreas’d,Hells pain no greater then hence to be eas’d?Therefore once dead in vain shall I transmitMy shadow to gazing Posteritie;Cast farre behind me I shall never see’t,On Heavens fair Sunne having fast fixt mine eye.Nor while I live, heed I what man doth praiseOr underprize mine unaffected layes.What moves thee then, said he, to take the painsAnd spenden time if thou contemn’st the fruit?Sweet fruit of fame, that fills the Poets brainsWith high conceit and feeds his fainting wit.How pleasant ’tis in honour here to liveAnd dead, thy name for ever to survive!Or is thy abject mind so basely bentAs of thy Muse to maken Merchandize?(And well I wote this is no strange intent.)The hopefull glimps of gold from chattering Pies,From Daws and Crows, and Parots oft hath wrungAn unexpected Pegaseian song.Foul shame on him, quoth I, that shamefull thoughtDoth entertain within his dunghill breast,Both God and Nature hath my spirits wroughtTo better temper and of old hath blestMy loftie soul with more divine aspiresThen to be touchd with such vile low desires.I hate and highly scorn that Kestrell kindOf bastard scholars that subordinateThe precious choice induements of the mindTo wealth or worldly good. AdulterateAnd cursed brood! Your wit and will are bornOf th’ earth and circling thither do return.Profit and honour be those measures scantOf your slight studies and endeavours vain,And when you once have got what you did wantYou leave your learning to enjoy your gain.Your brains grow low, your bellies swell up high,Foul sluggish fat ditts up your dulled eye.Thus what the earth did breed, to th’ earth is gone,Like fading hearb or feebly drooping flower,By feet of men and beast quite trodden down,The muck-sprung learning cannot long endure.Back she returns lost in her filthy source,Drown’d, chok’d or slocken by her cruell nurse.True virtue to her self’s the best reward,Rich with her own and full of lively spirit,Nothing cast down for want of due regard.Or ’cause rude men acknowledge not her merit.She knows her worth and stock from whence she sprung,Spreads fair without the warmth of earthly dung,Dew’d with the drops of Heaven shall flourish long;As long as day and night do share the skie,And though that day and night should fail yet strongAnd steddie, fixed on EternitieShall bloom for ever. So the foul shall speedThat loveth virtue for no worldly meed.Though sooth to sayn, the worldly meed is dueTo her more then to all the world beside.Men ought do homage with affections trueAnd offer gifts for God doth there reside.The wise and virtuous soul is his own seatTo such what’s given God himself doth get.But earthly minds whose sight’s seal’d up with mudDiscern not this flesh-clouded Deity,Ne do acknowledge any other goodThen what their mole-warp hands can feel and trieBy groping touch; thus (worth of them unseen)Of nothing worthy that true worth they ween.Wherefore the prudent Law-givers of oldEven in all Nations, with right sage foresightDiscovering from farre how clums and coldThe vulgar wight would be to yield what’s rightTo virtuous learning, did by law designeGreat wealth and honour to that worth divine.But nought’s by law to Poesie due said he,Ne doth the solemn Statesmans head take careOf those that such impertinent pieces beOf common-weals. Thou’d better then to spareThy uselesse vein. Or tell else, what may moveThy busie use such fruitlesse pains to prove.No pains but pleasure to do the dictates dearOf inward living nature. What doth moveThe Nightingall to sing so sweet and clearThe Thrush, or Lark that mounting high aboveChants her shrill notes to heedlesse ears of cornHeavily hanging in the dewy morn.When life can speak, it can not well withholdT’ expresse its own impressions and hid life.Or joy or grief that smoothered lie untoldDo vex the heart and wring with restlesse strife.Then are my labours no true pains but easeMy souls unrest they gently do appease.Besides, that is not fruitlesse that no gainsBrings to my self. I others profit deemMine own: and if at these my heavenly flamesOthers receiven light, right well I weenMy time’s not lost. Art thou now satisfideSaid I: to which the scoffing boy replide.Great hope indeed thy rymes should men enlight,That be with clouds and darknesse all o’recast,Harsh style and harder sense void of delightThe Readers wearied eye in vain do wast.And when men win thy meaning with much pain,Thy uncouth sense they coldly entertain.For wotst thou not that all the world is deadUnto that Genius that moves in thy veinOf poetrie! But like by like is fed.Sing of my Trophees in triumphant strein,Then correspondent life, thy powerfull verseShall strongly strike and with quick passion pierce.The tender frie of lads and lasses youngWith thirstie eare thee compassing about,Thy Nectar-dropping Muse, thy sugar’d songWill swallow down with eagre hearty draught;Relishing truly what thy rymes convey,And highly praising thy soul-smiting lay.The mincing maid her mind will then bewray,Her heart-bloud flaming up into her face,Grave matrons will wex wanton and betrayTheir unresolv’dnesse in their wonted grace;Young boyes and girls would feel a forward spring,And former youth to eld thou back wouldst bring.All Sexes, Ages, Orders, OccupationsWould listen to thee with attentive ear,And eas’ly moved with thy sweet perswasions,Thy pipe would follow with full merry chear.While thou thy lively voice didst loud advanceTheir tickled bloud for joy would inly dance.But now, alas! poore solitarie man!In lonesome desert thou dost wander wideTo seek and serve thy disappearing Pan,Whom no man living in the world hath eyde:For Pan is dead but I am still alive,And live in men who honour to me give:They honour also those that honour meWith sacred songs. But thou now singst to treesTo rocks to Hills, to Caves that senselesse beAnd mindlesse quite of thy hid mysteries,In the void aire thy idle voice is spread,Thy Muse is musick to the deaf or dead.Now out alas! said I, and wele-awayThe tale thou tellest I confesse too true.Fond man so doteth on this living clayHis carcase dear, and doth its joyes pursue,That of his precious soul he takes no keepHeavens love and reasons light lie fast asleep.This bodies life vain shadow of the soulWith full desire they closely do embrace,In fleshly mud like swine they wallow and roll,The loftiest mind is proud but of the faceOr outward person; if men but adoreThat walking sepulchre, cares for no more.This is the measure of mans industryTo wexen some body and getten graceTo ’s outward presence; though true majestieCrown’d with that heavenly light and lively rayesOf holy wesdome and Seraphick love,From his deformed soul he farre remove.Slight knowledge and lesse virtue serves his turnFor this designe. If he hath trod the ringOf pedling arts; in usuall pack-horse formKeeping the rode; O! then ’t’s a learned thing.If any chanc’d to write or speak what heConceives not ’t were a foul discourtesie.To cleanse the soul from sinne, and still diffideWhether our reasons eye be clear enoughTo intromit true light, that fain would glideInto purg’d hearts, this way ’s too harsh and rough:Therefore the clearest truths may well seem darkWhen sloathfull men have eyes so dimme and stark.These be our times. But if my minds presageBear any moment, they can ne’re last long,A three branch’d Flame will soon sweep clean the stageOf this old dirty drosse and all wex young.My words into this frozen air I throwWill then grow vocall at that generall thaw.Nay, now thou ’rt perfect mad, said he, with scorn,And full of foul derision quit the place.The skie did rattle with his wings ytornLike to rent silk. But I in the mean spaceSent after him this message by the windBe ’t so I ’m mad, yet sure I am thou ’rt blind.By this the out-stretch’d shadows of the treesPointed me home-ward, and with one consentForetold the dayes descent. So straight I riseGathering my limbs from off the green pavementBehind me leaving then the slooping Light.Cl.And now let’s up,Vesperbrings on the Night.
Cl.Melamy dear! why been thy looks so sad
As if thy gentle heart were sunk with care?
Impart thy case; for be it good or bad
Friendship in either will bear equall share.
Mel.Not so;Cleanthes, for if bad it be
My self must bleed afresh by wounding thee.
But what it is, my slow, uncertain wit
Cannot well judge. But thou shalt sentence give
How manfully of late my self I quit,
When with that lordly lad by chance I strive:
Cl.Of friendshipMela! let’s that story hear.
Mel.Sit downCleanthesthen, and lend thine ear.
Upon a day as best did please my mind
Walking abroad amidst the verdant field
Scattering my carefull thoughts i’ th’ wanton wind
The pleasure of my path so farre had till’d
My feeble feet that without timely rest
Uneath it were to reach my wonted nest.
In secret shade farre moved from mortals sight
In lowly dale my wandring limbs I laid
On the cool grasse where Natures pregnant wit
A goodly bower of thickest trees had made.
Amongst the leaves the chearfull birds did fare
And sweetly carrol’d to the echoing air.
Hard at my feet ran down a crystall spring
Which did the cumbrous pebbles hoarsly chide
For standing in the way. Though murmuring
The broken stream his course did rightly guide
And strongly pressing forward with disdain
The grassie flore divided into twain.
The place a while did feed my foolish eye
As being new, and eke mine idle ear
Did listen oft to that wild harmonie
And oft my curious phansie would compare
How well agreed the Brooks low muttering Base,
With the birds trebbles pearch’d on higher place.
But senses objects soon do glut the soul,
Or rather weary with their emptinesse;
So I, all heedlesse how the waters roll
And mindlesse of the mirth the birds expresse,
Into my self ’gin softly to retire
After hid heavenly pleasures to enquire.
While I this enterprize do entertain;
Lo! on the other side in thickest bushes
A mighty noise! with that a naked swain
With blew and purple wings streight rudely rushes.
He leaps down light upon the flowry green,
Like sight before mine eyes had never seen.
At’s snowy back the boy a quiver wore
Right fairly wrought and gilded all with gold.
A silver bow in his left hand he bore,
And in his right a ready shaft did hold.
Thus armed stood he and betwixt us tway
The labouring brook did break his toilsome way.
The wanton lad whose sport is others pain
Did charge his bended bow with deadly dart,
And drawing to the head with might and main,
With fell intent he aim’d to hit my heart.
But ever as he shot his arrows still
In their mid course dropt down into the rill.
Of wondrous virtues that in waters been
Is needlesse to rehearse, all books do ring
Of those strange rarities. But ne’re was seen
Such virtue as resided in this spring.
The novelty did make me much admire
But stirr’d the hasty youth to ragefull ire.
As heedlesse fowls that take their per’lous flight
Over that bane of birds,Averno lake,
Do drop down dead: so dead his shafts did light
Amid this stream, which presently did slake
Their fiery points, and all their feathers wet
Which made the youngster Godling inly fret.
Thus lustfull Love (this was that love I ween)
Was wholly changed to consuming ire.
And eath it was, sith they’re so near a kin
They be both born of one rebellious sire.
But he supprest his wrath and by and by
For feathered darts, he winged words let flie:
Vain man! said he, and would thou wer’st not vain
That hid’st thy self in solitary shade
And spil’st thy precious youth in sad disdain
Hating this lifes delight! Hath god thee made
Part of this world, and wilt not thou partake
Of this worlds pleasure for its makers sake?
Unthankfull wretch! Gods gifts thus to reject
And maken nought of Natures goodly dower
That milders still away through thy neglect
And dying fades like unregarded flower.
This life is good, what’s good thou must improve,
The highest improvement of this life is love.
Had I(butO that envious Destinie,
Or Stygian vow, or thrice accursed charm
Should in this place free passage thus denie
Unto my shafts as messengers ofharm!
Had I but once transfixt thy froward breast,
How would’st thou then——I staid not for the rest;
But thus half angry to the boy replide:
How would’st thou then my soul of sense bereave!
I blinded, thee more blind should choose my guide!
How would’st thou then my muddied mind deceive
With fading shows, that in my errour vile,
Base lust; I love should tearm, vice, virtue stile.
How should my wicked rymes then idolize
Thy wretched power, and with impious wit
Impute thy base born passions to the skies
And my souls sicknesse count an heavenly fit,
My weaknesse strength, my wisdome to be caught
My bane my blisse, mine ease to be o’rewraught.
How often through my fondly feigning mind
And frantick phansie, in my Mistris eye
Should I a thousand fluttering Cupids find
Bathing their busie wings? How oft espie
Under the shadow of her eye-brows fair
Ten thousand Graces sit all naked bare?
Thus haunted should I be with such feat fiends:
A pretty madnesse were my portion due.
Foolish my self I would not hear my friends.
Should deem the true for false, the false for true.
My way all dark more slippery then ice
My attendents, anger, pride, and jealousies.
Unthankfull then to God I should neglect
All the whole world for one poor sorry wight,
Whose pestilent eye into my heart project
Would burn like poysonous Comet in my spright.
Aye me! how dismall then would prove that day
Whose onely light sprang from so fatall ray.
Who seeks for pleasure in this mortall life
By diving deep into the body base
Shall loose true pleasure: But who gainly strive
Their sinking soul above this bulk to place
Enlarg’d delight they certainly shall find
Unbounded joyes to fill their boundlesse mind.
When I my self from mine own self do quit
And each thing else; then an all-spreaden love
To the vast Universe my soul doth sit
Makes me half equall to all-seeing Jove.
My mighty wings high stretch’d then clapping light
I brush the starres and make them shine more bright.
Then all the works of God with close embrace
I dearly hug in my enlarged arms
All the hid paths of heavenly Love I trace
And boldly listen to his secret charms.
Then clearly view I where true light doth rise,
And where eternall Night low-pressed lies.
Thus lose I not by leaving small delight
But gain more joy, while I my self suspend
From this and that; for then with all unite
I all enjoy, and love that love commends.
That all is more then loves the partiall soul
Whose petty loves th’ impartiall fates controll.
Ah son! said he, (and laughed very loud)
That trickst thy tongue with uncouth strange disguize,
Extolling highly that with speeches proud
To mortall men that humane state denies,
And rashly blaming what thou never knew
Let men experienc’d speak, if they’ll speak true.
Had I once lanc’d thy froward flinty heart
And cruddled bloud had thawn with living fire
And prickt thy drousie sprite with gentle smart
How wouldst thou wake to kindly sweet desire,
Thy soul fill’d up with overflowing pleasures
Would dew thy lips with hony-dropping measures.
Then wouldst thou caroll loud and sweetly sing
In honour of my sacred Deity
That all the woods and hollow hills would ring
Reechoing thy heavenly harmonie.
And eke the hardy rocks with full rebounds
Would faithfully return thy silver sounds.
Next unto me would be thy Mistresse fair,
Whom thou might setten out with goodly skill
Her peerlesse beauty and her virtues rare,
That all would wonder at thy gracefull quill.
And lastly in us both thy self shouldst raise
And crown thy temples with immortall bayes.
But now thy riddles all men do neglect,
Thy rugged lines of all do lie forlorn.
Unwelcome rymes that rudely do detect
The Readers ignorance. Men holden scorn
To be so often non-plusd or to spell,
And on one stanza a whole age to dwell.
Besides this harsh and hard obscuritie
Of the hid sense, thy words are barbarous
And strangely new, and yet too frequently
Return, as usuall plain and obvious,
So that the show of the new thick-set patch
Marres all the old with which it ill doth match.
But if thy haughty mind, forsooth, would deign
To stoop so low to hearken to my lore,
Then wouldst thou with trim lovers not disdeign
To adorn the outside, set the best before.
Nor rub nor wrinkle would thy verses spoil
Thy rymes should run as glib and smooth as oyl.
If that be all, said I, thy reasons slight
Can never move my well establishd mind.
Full well I wote alwayes the present sprite,
Or life that doth possesse the soul, doth blind,
Shutting the windows ’gainst broad open day
Lest fairer sights its uglinesse bewray.
The soul then loves that disposition best
Because no better comes unto her view.
The drunkard drunkennesse, the sluggard rest,
Th’ Ambitious honour and obeisance due.
So all the rest do love their vices base
’Cause virtues beauty comes not into place.
And looser love ’gainst Chastitie divine
Would shut the door that he might sit alone.
Then wholly should my mind to him incline:
And woxen strait, (since larger love was gone)
That paultrie sprite of low contracting lust
Would fit my soul as if ’t were made for ’t just.
Then should I with my fellow bird or brute
So strangely metamorphis’d, either ney
Or bellow loud: or if ’t may better sute
Chirp out my joy pearch’d upon higher spray.
My passions fond with impudence rehearse,
Immortalize my madnesse in a verse.
This is the summe of thy deceiving boast
That I vain ludenesse highly should admire,
When I the sense of better things have lost
And chang’d my heavenly heat for hellish fire,
Passion is blind, but virtues piercing eye
Approching danger can from farre espie.
And what thou dost Pedantickly object
Concerning my rude rugged uncouth style,
As childish toy I manfully neglect,
And at thy hidden snares do inly smile.
How ill alas! with wisdome it accords
To sell my living sense for livelesse words.
My thought ’s the fittest measure of my tongue,
Wherefore I’ll use what’s most significant,
And rather then my inward meaning wrong
Or my full-shining notion trimly scant,
I’ll conjure up old words out of their grave,
Or call fresh forrein force in if need crave.
And these attending on my moving mind
Shall duly usher in the fitting sense.
As oft as meet occasion I find.
Unusuall words oft used give lesse offence;
Nor will the old contexture dim or marre,
For often us’d they’re next to old, thred-bare.
And if the old seem in too rustie hew,
Then frequent rubbing makes them shine like gold,
And glister all with colour gayly new.
Wherefore to use them both we will be bold.
Thus lists me fondly with fond folk to toy,
And answer fools with equall foolerie.
The meaner mind works with more nicetie,
As spiders wont to weave their idle web,
But braver spirits do all things gallantly
Of lesser failings nought at all affred:
So Natures carelesse pencill dipt in light
With sprinkled starres hath spattered the Night.
And if my notions clear though rudely thrown
And loosely scattered in my poesie,
May lend men light till the dead Night be gone,
And Morning fresh with roses strew the skie:
It is enough, I meant no trimmer frame
Or by nice needle-work to seek a name.
Vain man! that seekest name mongst earthly men
Devoid of God and all good virtuous lere;
Who groping in the dark do nothing ken
But mad; with griping care their souls do tear,
Or burst with hatred or with envie pine
Or burn with rage or melt out at their eyne.
Thrice happy he whose name is writ above,
And doeth good though gaining infamie;
Requiteth evil turns with hearty love,
And recks not what befalls him outwardly:
Whose worth is in himself, and onely blisse
In his pure conscience that doth nought amisse.
Who placeth pleasure in his purged soul
And virtuous life his treasure doth esteem;
Who can his passions masterandcontroll,
And that true lordly manlinesse doth deem,
Who from this world himself hath clearly quit
Counts nought his own but what lives in his sprite.
So when his sprite from this vain world shall flit
It bears all with it whatsoever was dear
Unto it self, passing in easie fit,
As kindly ripen’d corn comes out of th’ eare.
Thus mindlesse of what idle men will say
He takes his own and stilly goes his way.
But the retinue of proud Lucifer,
Those blustering Poets that flie after fame
And deck themselves like the bright Morning-starre.
Alas! it is but all a crackling flame.
For death will strip them of that glorious plume
That airie blisse will vanish into fume.
For can their carefull ghosts from Limbotake
Return, or listen from the bowed skie
To heare how well their learned lines do take?
Or if they could; is Heavens felicitie
So small as by mans praise to be encreas’d,
Hells pain no greater then hence to be eas’d?
Therefore once dead in vain shall I transmit
My shadow to gazing Posteritie;
Cast farre behind me I shall never see’t,
On Heavens fair Sunne having fast fixt mine eye.
Nor while I live, heed I what man doth praise
Or underprize mine unaffected layes.
What moves thee then, said he, to take the pains
And spenden time if thou contemn’st the fruit?
Sweet fruit of fame, that fills the Poets brains
With high conceit and feeds his fainting wit.
How pleasant ’tis in honour here to live
And dead, thy name for ever to survive!
Or is thy abject mind so basely bent
As of thy Muse to maken Merchandize?
(And well I wote this is no strange intent.)
The hopefull glimps of gold from chattering Pies,
From Daws and Crows, and Parots oft hath wrung
An unexpected Pegaseian song.
Foul shame on him, quoth I, that shamefull thought
Doth entertain within his dunghill breast,
Both God and Nature hath my spirits wrought
To better temper and of old hath blest
My loftie soul with more divine aspires
Then to be touchd with such vile low desires.
I hate and highly scorn that Kestrell kind
Of bastard scholars that subordinate
The precious choice induements of the mind
To wealth or worldly good. Adulterate
And cursed brood! Your wit and will are born
Of th’ earth and circling thither do return.
Profit and honour be those measures scant
Of your slight studies and endeavours vain,
And when you once have got what you did want
You leave your learning to enjoy your gain.
Your brains grow low, your bellies swell up high,
Foul sluggish fat ditts up your dulled eye.
Thus what the earth did breed, to th’ earth is gone,
Like fading hearb or feebly drooping flower,
By feet of men and beast quite trodden down,
The muck-sprung learning cannot long endure.
Back she returns lost in her filthy source,
Drown’d, chok’d or slocken by her cruell nurse.
True virtue to her self’s the best reward,
Rich with her own and full of lively spirit,
Nothing cast down for want of due regard.
Or ’cause rude men acknowledge not her merit.
She knows her worth and stock from whence she sprung,
Spreads fair without the warmth of earthly dung,
Dew’d with the drops of Heaven shall flourish long;
As long as day and night do share the skie,
And though that day and night should fail yet strong
And steddie, fixed on Eternitie
Shall bloom for ever. So the foul shall speed
That loveth virtue for no worldly meed.
Though sooth to sayn, the worldly meed is due
To her more then to all the world beside.
Men ought do homage with affections true
And offer gifts for God doth there reside.
The wise and virtuous soul is his own seat
To such what’s given God himself doth get.
But earthly minds whose sight’s seal’d up with mud
Discern not this flesh-clouded Deity,
Ne do acknowledge any other good
Then what their mole-warp hands can feel and trie
By groping touch; thus (worth of them unseen)
Of nothing worthy that true worth they ween.
Wherefore the prudent Law-givers of old
Even in all Nations, with right sage foresight
Discovering from farre how clums and cold
The vulgar wight would be to yield what’s right
To virtuous learning, did by law designe
Great wealth and honour to that worth divine.
But nought’s by law to Poesie due said he,
Ne doth the solemn Statesmans head take care
Of those that such impertinent pieces be
Of common-weals. Thou’d better then to spare
Thy uselesse vein. Or tell else, what may move
Thy busie use such fruitlesse pains to prove.
No pains but pleasure to do the dictates dear
Of inward living nature. What doth move
The Nightingall to sing so sweet and clear
The Thrush, or Lark that mounting high above
Chants her shrill notes to heedlesse ears of corn
Heavily hanging in the dewy morn.
When life can speak, it can not well withhold
T’ expresse its own impressions and hid life.
Or joy or grief that smoothered lie untold
Do vex the heart and wring with restlesse strife.
Then are my labours no true pains but ease
My souls unrest they gently do appease.
Besides, that is not fruitlesse that no gains
Brings to my self. I others profit deem
Mine own: and if at these my heavenly flames
Others receiven light, right well I ween
My time’s not lost. Art thou now satisfide
Said I: to which the scoffing boy replide.
Great hope indeed thy rymes should men enlight,
That be with clouds and darknesse all o’recast,
Harsh style and harder sense void of delight
The Readers wearied eye in vain do wast.
And when men win thy meaning with much pain,
Thy uncouth sense they coldly entertain.
For wotst thou not that all the world is dead
Unto that Genius that moves in thy vein
Of poetrie! But like by like is fed.
Sing of my Trophees in triumphant strein,
Then correspondent life, thy powerfull verse
Shall strongly strike and with quick passion pierce.
The tender frie of lads and lasses young
With thirstie eare thee compassing about,
Thy Nectar-dropping Muse, thy sugar’d song
Will swallow down with eagre hearty draught;
Relishing truly what thy rymes convey,
And highly praising thy soul-smiting lay.
The mincing maid her mind will then bewray,
Her heart-bloud flaming up into her face,
Grave matrons will wex wanton and betray
Their unresolv’dnesse in their wonted grace;
Young boyes and girls would feel a forward spring,
And former youth to eld thou back wouldst bring.
All Sexes, Ages, Orders, Occupations
Would listen to thee with attentive ear,
And eas’ly moved with thy sweet perswasions,
Thy pipe would follow with full merry chear.
While thou thy lively voice didst loud advance
Their tickled bloud for joy would inly dance.
But now, alas! poore solitarie man!
In lonesome desert thou dost wander wide
To seek and serve thy disappearing Pan,
Whom no man living in the world hath eyde:
For Pan is dead but I am still alive,
And live in men who honour to me give:
They honour also those that honour me
With sacred songs. But thou now singst to trees
To rocks to Hills, to Caves that senselesse be
And mindlesse quite of thy hid mysteries,
In the void aire thy idle voice is spread,
Thy Muse is musick to the deaf or dead.
Now out alas! said I, and wele-away
The tale thou tellest I confesse too true.
Fond man so doteth on this living clay
His carcase dear, and doth its joyes pursue,
That of his precious soul he takes no keep
Heavens love and reasons light lie fast asleep.
This bodies life vain shadow of the soul
With full desire they closely do embrace,
In fleshly mud like swine they wallow and roll,
The loftiest mind is proud but of the face
Or outward person; if men but adore
That walking sepulchre, cares for no more.
This is the measure of mans industry
To wexen some body and getten grace
To ’s outward presence; though true majestie
Crown’d with that heavenly light and lively rayes
Of holy wesdome and Seraphick love,
From his deformed soul he farre remove.
Slight knowledge and lesse virtue serves his turn
For this designe. If he hath trod the ring
Of pedling arts; in usuall pack-horse form
Keeping the rode; O! then ’t’s a learned thing.
If any chanc’d to write or speak what he
Conceives not ’t were a foul discourtesie.
To cleanse the soul from sinne, and still diffide
Whether our reasons eye be clear enough
To intromit true light, that fain would glide
Into purg’d hearts, this way ’s too harsh and rough:
Therefore the clearest truths may well seem dark
When sloathfull men have eyes so dimme and stark.
These be our times. But if my minds presage
Bear any moment, they can ne’re last long,
A three branch’d Flame will soon sweep clean the stage
Of this old dirty drosse and all wex young.
My words into this frozen air I throw
Will then grow vocall at that generall thaw.
Nay, now thou ’rt perfect mad, said he, with scorn,
And full of foul derision quit the place.
The skie did rattle with his wings ytorn
Like to rent silk. But I in the mean space
Sent after him this message by the wind
Be ’t so I ’m mad, yet sure I am thou ’rt blind.
By this the out-stretch’d shadows of the trees
Pointed me home-ward, and with one consent
Foretold the dayes descent. So straight I rise
Gathering my limbs from off the green pavement
Behind me leaving then the slooping Light.
Cl.And now let’s up,Vesperbrings on the Night.
A Particular Interpretationappertaining tothe three last books of the PlatonickSong of the Soul.AAtom-lives.The same that Centrall lives. Both the terms denotate the indivisibility of the inmost essence it self; the pure essentiall form I mean, of plant, beast or man, yea of angels themselves, good or bad.Apogee,Autokineticall,Ananke,Acronycall,Alethea-land,}See Interpret. Gen.Animadversall. That lively inward animadversall.It is the soul it self, for I cannot conceive the body doth animadvert; when as objects plainly exposed to the sight are not discovered till the soul takes notice of them.BBody.The ancient Philosophers have defined it,Τὸ τριχῇ διάστατον μετ’ ἀντιτυπίας.Sext. Emperic. Pyrrhon. Hypotyp. lib. 3. cap. 5.Near to this is that description,Psychathan, Cant. 2. Stanz. 12. lib. 2,Matter extent in three dimensions.But for thatἀντιτυπία, simple trinall distension doth not imply it, wherefore I declin’d it. But took inmatteraccording to their conceit, that phansieà Materia prima, I acknowledge none, and consequently no suchcorpus naturaleas our Physiologist make the subject of that science. ThatΤριχῇ διάστατον ἀντίτυπονis nothing but a fixt spirit, the conspissation or coagulation of the Cuspidall particles of the Cone, which are indeed the Centrall Tasis or inward essence of the sensible world. These be an infinite number of vitall Atoms that may be wakened into diverse tinctures, or energies, into fiery, watery, earthy, &c. And one divineFiatcan unloose them all into an universall mist, or turn them out of that sweat into a drie and pure Etheriall temper. These be the last projections of life from the soul of the world; and are act or form though debil and indifferent, like that which they call the first matter. But they are not meerly passivebut meet their information half way, as I may so speak: are radiantab intimoand awake into this or the other operation, by the powerfull appulse of some superadvenient form. That which change of Phantasmes is to the soul, that is alteration of rayes to them. For their rayes areab intrinseco, as the phantasmes of the soul. These be the reall matter of which all supposed bodies are compounded, and this matter (as I said) is form and life, so that all is life and form what ever is in the world, as I have somewhere intimated inAntipsychopan: But however I use the termebodyordinarily in the usuall and vulgar acception. And for that sense of the ancients, nearest to which I have defined it in the place first above mentioned, that I seem not to choose that same as most easie to proceed against in disproving the corporeity of the soul, the arguments do as necessarily conclude against such a naturall body as is ordinarily described in Physiologie (as you may plainly discern if you list to observe) as also against this body composed of the Cuspidall particles of the Cone. For though they be Centrall lives, yet are they neither Plasticall, Sensitive, or Rationall, so farre are they from proving to be the humane soul whose nature is there discust.CCone: Is a solid figure made by the turning of a rectangular triangle, about; one of the sides that include the right angle resting, which will be then the Axis of the compleated Cone. But I take it sometimes for the comprehension of all things, God himself not left out, whom I tearm theBasisof theConeorUniverse. And because all from him descends,καθ’ ὑποστολῆν, with abatement or contraction, I give the name ofConeto the Universe. And of Cone rather then Pyramid because of the roundnesse of the figure, which the effluxes of all things imitate.Chaos,Chronicall,Clare,}See interpret· Gen.Circulation, The terme is taken from a toyish observation,viz.the circling of water when a stone is cast into a standing pool. The motion drives on circularly, the first rings are thickest, but the further they go they grow the thinner, till they vanish into nothing. Such is the diffusion ofthe species audible in the strucken aire, as also of the visible species. In brief any thing is said to circulate that diffuseth its image or species in a round. It might have been more significantly called orbiculation; seeing this circumfusion makes not onely a circle, but fills a sphere, which may be called the sphere of activity. Yet Circulation more fitly sets out the diminution of activity, from those ringes in the water which as they grow in compasse, abate in force and thicknesse. But sometimes I use Circulate in an ordinary sense to turn round, or return in a circle.Centre,Centrall,Centrality. When they are used out of their ordinary sense, they signifie the depth or inmost being of any thing, from whence its acts and energies flow forth. SeeAtom-lives.Cuspisof theCone. The multiplide Cuspis of the Cone is nothing but the last projection of life from Psyche, which isשׁמיםa liquid fire or fire and water, which are the corporeall or materiall principles of all things, changed or disgregated (if they be centrally distinguishable) and again mingled by the virtue of Physis or Spermaticall life of the world; of these are the Sunne and all the Planets, they being kned together, and fixt by the Centrall power of each Planet and Sunne. The volatile Ether is also of the same, and all the bodies of plants, beasts and men. These are they which we handle and touch, a sufficient number compact together. For neither is the noise of those little flies in a summer-evening audible severally: but a full Quire of them strike the ear with a pretty kind of buzzing. Strong and tumultuous pleasure and scorching pain reside in these, they being essentiall and centrall, but sight and hearing are onely of the images of these, SeeBody.Eternitie.Is the steddie comprehension of all things at once. See Æon discribed in my Expos. upon Psychozoia.Energie.It is a peculiar Platonicall terme. In my Interpret. Gen. I expounded it Operation, Efflux, Activity. None of those words bear the full sense of it. The examples there are fit,viz.the light of the Sunne, the phantasms of the soul. We may collect the genuine sense of the word by comparing severall places in the Philosopher.Ἔχει γὰρ ἕκαστον τῶν ὄντων ἐνεργειαν,ἥ ἐστιν ὁμοίωμα αὐτοῦ, ὥστε αὐτοῦ ὄντος,κἀκεῖνο εἶναι, καὶ μένοντος φθάνειν εἰς τὸ πόῤῥω, τὸ μὲν ἐπὶ πλέον, τὸ δὲ εἰς ἔλαττον.Καὶ αἱ μὲν ἀσθενεῖς καὶ ἀμυδραὶ, αἱ δὲ καὶ λανθάνουσαι,τῶν δ’ εἰσὶ μείζους καὶ εἰς τὸ πόῤῥω.For every being hath its Energie, which is the image of it self, so that it existing that Energie doth also exist, and standing still is projected forward more or lesse. And some of those energies are weak and obscure, others hid or undiscernable, othersome greater and of a larger projection.Plotin. Ennead. 4. lib. 5. cap. 7. And again, Ennead. 3. lib. 4.Καὶ μένομεν τῷ μὲν νοητῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἄνω·τῷ δὲ ἐσχάτῳ αὐτοῦ, πεπεδήμεθα τῷ κάτω,οἷον ἀπόῤῥοιαν ἀπ’ ἐκείνου διδόντες εἰς τὸ κάτω,μᾶλλον δὲ ἐνέργειαν, ἐκείνου οὐκ ἐλαττουμένου.And we remain above by the Intellectuall man, but by the extreme part of him we are held below, as it were yielding an efflux from him to that which is below, or rather an energie he being not at all lessened.This curiositie Antoninus also observes, (lib. 8. Meditat.) in the nature of the sun-beams, where although he admits ofχύσις, yet he doth not ofἀπόῤῥοιαwhich isἔκχυσις.Ὁ ἥλιος κατακεχύσθαι δοκεῖ, καὶ πάντῇ γε κέχυται οὐ μὴν ἐκκέχυται.ἡ γὰρ χύσις αὐτοῦ τάσις ἐστίν.ἀκτῖνες γοῦν αἱ αὐγαὶ αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐκτείνεσθαι λέγονται.The sunne, saith he,is diffused, and his fusion is every where but without effusion, &c. I will onely adde one place more out of Plotinus. Ennead. 3. lib. 6.Ἑκάστου δὲ μορίου ἡ ἐνέργεια ἡ κατὰ φύσιν ζωὴ οὐκ ἐξιστᾶσα.The naturall energie of each power of the soul is life not parted from the soul though gone out of the soul,viz.into act.Comparing of all these places together, I cannot better explain this Platonick term,energie, then by calling it the rayes of an essence, or the beams of a vitall Centre. For essence is the Centre as it were of that which is truly called Energie, and Energie the beams and rayes of an essence. And as theRadiiof a circle leave not the centre by touching the Circumference, no more doth that which is the pure Energie of an essence, leave the essence by being called out into act, but isἐν-έργειαa working in the essence though it flowoutinto act. So thatEnergiedepends alwayes on essence, asLumenonLux, or the creature on God; Whom therefore Synesius in his Hymnes calls the Centre of all things.Entelecheia.See Interpret. Gen.FFaith.Platonick faith in the first Good.This faith is excellently described inProclus.where it is set above all ratiocination, nay, Intellect it self.Πρὸς δὲ αὖ τὸ ἀγαθὸν οὐ γνώσεως ἔτι καὶ συνεργείας δεῖ τοῖς συναφθῆναι σπεύδουσιν,ἀλλ’ ἱδρύσεως καὶ μονίμου καταστάσεως καὶ ἠρεμίας.But to them that endeavour to be joyned with the first Good, there is no need of knowledge or multifarious cooperation, but settlednesse, steddinesse, and rest.lib. 1. cap. 24. Theolog. Platon. And in the next chapter;Δεῖ γὰρ οὐ γνωστικῶς οὐδ’ ἀτελῶς τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἐπιζητεῖν,ἀλλ’ ἐπιδόντας ἑαυτοὺς τῷ θείῳ φωτὶ καὶ μύσαντας,οὕτως ἐνιδρύεσθαι τῇ ἀγνώστῳ καὶ κρυφίῳ τῶν ὄντων ἑνάδι.For we must not seek after that absolute or first Good cognoscitively or imperfectly, but giving our selves up to the divine light, and winking(that is shutting our eyes of reason and understanding)so to place our selves steddily in that hidden Unitie of all things. After he preferres this faith before the clear and present assent to theκοιναὶ ἔννοιαι, yea and theνοερὰ ἁπλότης, so that he will not that any intellectuall operation should come in comparison with it.Πολυειδὴς γὰρ αἵτη καὶ δι’ ἑτερότητος χωριζομένη τῶν νοουμένων,καὶ ὅλως κίνησίς ἐστι νοερὰ περὶ τὸ νοητόν.Δεῖ δὲ τὴν θείαν πίστιν ἑνοειδῆ καὶ ἤρεμον ὑπάρχειν ἐν τῷ τῆς ἀγαθότητος ὁρμῷ τελείως ἱδρυθεῖσαν.For the operation of the Intellect is multiform and by diversitie separate from her objects, and is in a word, intellectuall motion about the object intelligible. But the divine faith must be simple and uniform, quiet and steddily resting in the haven of Goodnesse.And at last he summarily concludes,Ἐστίοὐν οὗτος ὅρμος ἀσφαλὴς τῶνὄντωνἁπάντων.See Procl. Theolog. Platonick. lib. 1. cap. 25.HHyle.See Interpret. Gen.IIntellect.Sometimes it is to be interpretedSoul. Sometime the intellectuall facultie of the soul. Sometimes Intellect is an absolute essence shining into the soul: whose nature is this. A substance purely immateriall, impeccable, actually omniform, or comprehending all things at once, which the soul doth also being perfectly joyned with the Intellect.Ἔχομεν οὖν καὶ τὰεἴδηδιχῶς, ἐν μὲν ψυχῇ οἷον μὲνἀνειλιγμένα καὶ οἷον κεχωρισμένα, ἐν δὲ τῷ νῷ ὁμοῦ τὰ πάντα.Plot. Ennead. 1. lib. 1. cap. 8.Ideas, orIdees. Sometimes they are forms in the Intellectuall world.viz.inÆon, orOn, other sometimes, phantasmes or representations in the soul.Innate Ideesare the souls nature it self, her uniform essence, able by herFireto produce this or that phantasme into act.Idiopathy.Iao}See Interpret. Gen.LLogos.See Interpret. Gen.Life.The vitall operation of any soul. Sometime it is the soul it self, be it sensitive, vegetative, or rationall.Lower man.The lower man is our enquickned body, into which our soul comes, it being fitly prepared for the receiving of such a guest. The manner of the production of souls, or rather their non-production is admirably well set down in Plotinus, See,Ennead. 6. lib. 4. cap. 14, 15.MMonad.See Interpr. Gen.Mundane.Mundane spirit, Is that which is the spirit of the world or Universe. I mean by it not an intellectuall spirit, but a fine, unfixt, attenuate, subtill, ethereall substance, the immediate vehicle of plasticall or sensitive life.Memory.Mundane memory.Is that memory that is seated in theMundanespirit of man, by a strong impression, or inustion of any phantasme, or outward sensible object, upon that spirit. But there is a Memory more subtill and abstract in the soul it self, without the help of this spirit, which she also carries away with her having left the body.Magicall.That is, attractive, or commanding by force of sympathy with the life of this naturall world.Moment.Sometimes signifies an instant, as indivisible, asκίνημα, which in motion answers to an instant in time, or a point in a line,Aristot. Phys.In this sense I use it, Psychathan. lib. 3. cant. 2. stanz. 16;But in a moment sol doth ray.But Cant. the 3. Stanz. 45. v. 2. I understand, as also doth Lansbergius, by amomentone second of a minute. In Antipsych. Cant. 2. Stanz. the 20. v. 2. by amomentI understand a minute, or indefinitely any small time.OOrb.Orb Intellectuall, is nothing else but Æon or the Intellectuall world. The Orbs generall mentioned Psycathan. lib. 1. cant. 3. stanz. 23. v. 2. I understand by them but so many universall orders of beings, if I may so terme them all; forHylehath little or nothing of being.Omniformity.The omniformity of the soul is the having in her nature all forms, latent at least, and power of awaking them into act, upon occasion.Out-world.andOut-Heaven.The sensible world, the visible Heaven.PPerigee,Psychicall,Pareties,Parallax,Protopathy.}See Interpret. Gen.Parturient.See,Vaticinant.Phantasie.Lower phantasie, is that which resides in the Mundane spirit of a man, SeeMemory.QQuantitative.Formsquantitative, are such sensible energies as arise from the complexion of many natures together, at whose discretion they vanish. That’s the seventh Orb of things, though broken and not filling all as the other do. But if you take it for the whole sensible world, it is entire, and is the same thatTasisin Psycozoia. But the centre ofTasis, viz. the multiplication of the reallCuspisof theCone(forHylethat is set for the most contract point of theCuspisis scarce to be reckoned among realities) that immense diffusion of atoms, is to be referred toPsyche, as an internall vegetative act, and so belongs toPhysisthe lowest order of life. For as that warmth that the sense doth afford the body, is not rationall, sensitive, or imaginative, but vegetative; So this,שׁמיםi.e.liquid fire, whichPsychesends out, and is the outmost, last, and lowest operation from her self, is also vegetative.RRhomboides.See Interpr. general.Reason.I understand by Reason, the deduction of onething from another, which I conceive proceeds from a kind of continuitie of phantasmes: and is something like the moving of a cord at one end; the parts next it rise with it. And by this concatenation of phantasmes I conceive, that both brutes and men are moved in reasonable wayes and methods in their ordinary externall actions.Rayes.The rayes of an essence is its energie. SeeEnergie.Reduplicative.That is reduplicative, which is not onely in this point, but also in another, having a kind of circumscribed ubiquitie,viz.in its own sphear. And this is either by being in that sphear omnipresent it self, as the soul is said to be in the bodytota in toto & tota in qualibet parte, or else at least by propagation of rayes, which is the image of it self; and so are divers sensible objectsReduplicative, as light, colours, sounds. And I make account either of these wayes justly denominate any thing spirituall. Though the former is most properly, at least more eminently spirituall. And whether any thing be after that way spirituall saving the Divinitie, there is reason to doubt. For what is entirely omnipresent in a sphear, whose diametre is but three feet, I see not, why (that in the circumference being as fresh and entire as that in the centre) it should stop there and not proceed evenin infinitum, if the circumference be still as fresh and entire as the centre.But I define nothing.SSpermaticall.It belongs properly to Plants, but is transferred also to the Plasticall power in Animalls, I enlarge it to all magnetick power whatsoever that doth immediately rule and actuate any body. For all magnetick power is founded inPhysis, and in reference to her, this world is but one great Plant, (oneλόγος σπερματικόςgiving it shape and corporeall life) as in reference toPsyche, one happy and holy Animall.Spirit.Sometimes it signifieth the soul, othersometime, the naturall spirits in a mans body, which areVinculum animæ & corporis, and the souls vehicle: Sometimes life. SeeReduplicative.Soul.When I speak of mans Soul, I understand that whichMosessaith was inspired into the body, (fitted out and made of earth) by God, Genes. 2. which is not thatimpeccable spirit that cannot sinne; but the very same that the Platonists callψυχή, a middle essence betwixt that which they callνοῦς(and we would in the Christian language callπνεῦμα) and the life of the body which isεἴδωλον ψυχῆς, a kind of an umbratil vitalitie, that the soul imparts to the bodie in the enlivening of it: That and the body together, we Christians would callσὰρξ, and the suggestions of it, especially in its corrupt estate,φρόνημα σαρκός. Andthatwhich God inspired intoAdamwas no more thenψυχὴ, the soul, not the spirit, though it be calledנשמת חייםSpiraculum vitæ; is plain out of the text; because it made man but become a living soul,נפש חיה. But you will say, he was a dead soul before, and this was the spirit of life, yea the spirit of God, the life of the soul that was breathed into him.But ifחיהimplie such a life and spirit, you must acknowledge the same to be also in the most stupid of all living creatures, even the fishes (whose soul is but as salt to keep them from stinking, as Philo speaks) for they are said to beנשמת חייםchap. 1. v. 20. 21. See 1 Cor. chap. 15, v. 45, 46. In brief therefore, that which in Platonisme isνοῦς, is in Scriptureπνεῦμα; whatσὰρξin one,τὸ θηρίον, the brute or beast in the other,ψυχὴthe same in both.Self-reduplicative.SeeReduplicative.TTricentreitie.Centre is put for essence, soTricentreitiemust implie a trinitie of essence. SeeCentre, andEnergie.VVaticinant.The soul is said to be in avaticinantorparturientcondition, when she hath some kind of sense and hovering knowledge of a thing, but yet cannot distinctly and fully, and commandingly represent it to her self, cannot plainly apprehend, much lesse comprehend the matter. The phrase is borrowed of Proclus, who describing the incomprehensiblenese of God, and the desire of all things towards him, speaks thus;Ἄγνωστον γὰρ ὂν ποθεῖ τὰ ὄντα τὸ ἐφετὸν τοῦτο καὶ ἄληπτον,μήτε οῦν γνῶναι μήτε ἑλεῖν ὁ ποθεῖ,δυνάμενα, περὶ αὐτὸ πάντα χορεύει καὶ ὠδίνει μὲν αὐτὸ καὶ οἷον ἀπομαντεύεται.Theolog. Platon.lib. 1. cap. 21.SeePsychathan. lib. 3. cant. 3. stanz. 12. & 14.
Atom-lives.The same that Centrall lives. Both the terms denotate the indivisibility of the inmost essence it self; the pure essentiall form I mean, of plant, beast or man, yea of angels themselves, good or bad.
Animadversall. That lively inward animadversall.It is the soul it self, for I cannot conceive the body doth animadvert; when as objects plainly exposed to the sight are not discovered till the soul takes notice of them.
Body.The ancient Philosophers have defined it,Τὸ τριχῇ διάστατον μετ’ ἀντιτυπίας.Sext. Emperic. Pyrrhon. Hypotyp. lib. 3. cap. 5.Near to this is that description,Psychathan, Cant. 2. Stanz. 12. lib. 2,Matter extent in three dimensions.But for thatἀντιτυπία, simple trinall distension doth not imply it, wherefore I declin’d it. But took inmatteraccording to their conceit, that phansieà Materia prima, I acknowledge none, and consequently no suchcorpus naturaleas our Physiologist make the subject of that science. ThatΤριχῇ διάστατον ἀντίτυπονis nothing but a fixt spirit, the conspissation or coagulation of the Cuspidall particles of the Cone, which are indeed the Centrall Tasis or inward essence of the sensible world. These be an infinite number of vitall Atoms that may be wakened into diverse tinctures, or energies, into fiery, watery, earthy, &c. And one divineFiatcan unloose them all into an universall mist, or turn them out of that sweat into a drie and pure Etheriall temper. These be the last projections of life from the soul of the world; and are act or form though debil and indifferent, like that which they call the first matter. But they are not meerly passivebut meet their information half way, as I may so speak: are radiantab intimoand awake into this or the other operation, by the powerfull appulse of some superadvenient form. That which change of Phantasmes is to the soul, that is alteration of rayes to them. For their rayes areab intrinseco, as the phantasmes of the soul. These be the reall matter of which all supposed bodies are compounded, and this matter (as I said) is form and life, so that all is life and form what ever is in the world, as I have somewhere intimated inAntipsychopan: But however I use the termebodyordinarily in the usuall and vulgar acception. And for that sense of the ancients, nearest to which I have defined it in the place first above mentioned, that I seem not to choose that same as most easie to proceed against in disproving the corporeity of the soul, the arguments do as necessarily conclude against such a naturall body as is ordinarily described in Physiologie (as you may plainly discern if you list to observe) as also against this body composed of the Cuspidall particles of the Cone. For though they be Centrall lives, yet are they neither Plasticall, Sensitive, or Rationall, so farre are they from proving to be the humane soul whose nature is there discust.
Cone: Is a solid figure made by the turning of a rectangular triangle, about; one of the sides that include the right angle resting, which will be then the Axis of the compleated Cone. But I take it sometimes for the comprehension of all things, God himself not left out, whom I tearm theBasisof theConeorUniverse. And because all from him descends,καθ’ ὑποστολῆν, with abatement or contraction, I give the name ofConeto the Universe. And of Cone rather then Pyramid because of the roundnesse of the figure, which the effluxes of all things imitate.
Circulation, The terme is taken from a toyish observation,viz.the circling of water when a stone is cast into a standing pool. The motion drives on circularly, the first rings are thickest, but the further they go they grow the thinner, till they vanish into nothing. Such is the diffusion ofthe species audible in the strucken aire, as also of the visible species. In brief any thing is said to circulate that diffuseth its image or species in a round. It might have been more significantly called orbiculation; seeing this circumfusion makes not onely a circle, but fills a sphere, which may be called the sphere of activity. Yet Circulation more fitly sets out the diminution of activity, from those ringes in the water which as they grow in compasse, abate in force and thicknesse. But sometimes I use Circulate in an ordinary sense to turn round, or return in a circle.
Centre,Centrall,Centrality. When they are used out of their ordinary sense, they signifie the depth or inmost being of any thing, from whence its acts and energies flow forth. SeeAtom-lives.
Cuspisof theCone. The multiplide Cuspis of the Cone is nothing but the last projection of life from Psyche, which isשׁמיםa liquid fire or fire and water, which are the corporeall or materiall principles of all things, changed or disgregated (if they be centrally distinguishable) and again mingled by the virtue of Physis or Spermaticall life of the world; of these are the Sunne and all the Planets, they being kned together, and fixt by the Centrall power of each Planet and Sunne. The volatile Ether is also of the same, and all the bodies of plants, beasts and men. These are they which we handle and touch, a sufficient number compact together. For neither is the noise of those little flies in a summer-evening audible severally: but a full Quire of them strike the ear with a pretty kind of buzzing. Strong and tumultuous pleasure and scorching pain reside in these, they being essentiall and centrall, but sight and hearing are onely of the images of these, SeeBody.
Eternitie.Is the steddie comprehension of all things at once. See Æon discribed in my Expos. upon Psychozoia.
Energie.It is a peculiar Platonicall terme. In my Interpret. Gen. I expounded it Operation, Efflux, Activity. None of those words bear the full sense of it. The examples there are fit,viz.the light of the Sunne, the phantasms of the soul. We may collect the genuine sense of the word by comparing severall places in the Philosopher.Ἔχει γὰρ ἕκαστον τῶν ὄντων ἐνεργειαν,ἥ ἐστιν ὁμοίωμα αὐτοῦ, ὥστε αὐτοῦ ὄντος,κἀκεῖνο εἶναι, καὶ μένοντος φθάνειν εἰς τὸ πόῤῥω, τὸ μὲν ἐπὶ πλέον, τὸ δὲ εἰς ἔλαττον.Καὶ αἱ μὲν ἀσθενεῖς καὶ ἀμυδραὶ, αἱ δὲ καὶ λανθάνουσαι,τῶν δ’ εἰσὶ μείζους καὶ εἰς τὸ πόῤῥω.For every being hath its Energie, which is the image of it self, so that it existing that Energie doth also exist, and standing still is projected forward more or lesse. And some of those energies are weak and obscure, others hid or undiscernable, othersome greater and of a larger projection.Plotin. Ennead. 4. lib. 5. cap. 7. And again, Ennead. 3. lib. 4.Καὶ μένομεν τῷ μὲν νοητῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἄνω·τῷ δὲ ἐσχάτῳ αὐτοῦ, πεπεδήμεθα τῷ κάτω,οἷον ἀπόῤῥοιαν ἀπ’ ἐκείνου διδόντες εἰς τὸ κάτω,μᾶλλον δὲ ἐνέργειαν, ἐκείνου οὐκ ἐλαττουμένου.And we remain above by the Intellectuall man, but by the extreme part of him we are held below, as it were yielding an efflux from him to that which is below, or rather an energie he being not at all lessened.This curiositie Antoninus also observes, (lib. 8. Meditat.) in the nature of the sun-beams, where although he admits ofχύσις, yet he doth not ofἀπόῤῥοιαwhich isἔκχυσις.Ὁ ἥλιος κατακεχύσθαι δοκεῖ, καὶ πάντῇ γε κέχυται οὐ μὴν ἐκκέχυται.ἡ γὰρ χύσις αὐτοῦ τάσις ἐστίν.ἀκτῖνες γοῦν αἱ αὐγαὶ αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐκτείνεσθαι λέγονται.The sunne, saith he,is diffused, and his fusion is every where but without effusion, &c. I will onely adde one place more out of Plotinus. Ennead. 3. lib. 6.Ἑκάστου δὲ μορίου ἡ ἐνέργεια ἡ κατὰ φύσιν ζωὴ οὐκ ἐξιστᾶσα.The naturall energie of each power of the soul is life not parted from the soul though gone out of the soul,viz.into act.
Comparing of all these places together, I cannot better explain this Platonick term,energie, then by calling it the rayes of an essence, or the beams of a vitall Centre. For essence is the Centre as it were of that which is truly called Energie, and Energie the beams and rayes of an essence. And as theRadiiof a circle leave not the centre by touching the Circumference, no more doth that which is the pure Energie of an essence, leave the essence by being called out into act, but isἐν-έργειαa working in the essence though it flowoutinto act. So thatEnergiedepends alwayes on essence, asLumenonLux, or the creature on God; Whom therefore Synesius in his Hymnes calls the Centre of all things.
Entelecheia.See Interpret. Gen.
Faith.Platonick faith in the first Good.This faith is excellently described inProclus.where it is set above all ratiocination, nay, Intellect it self.Πρὸς δὲ αὖ τὸ ἀγαθὸν οὐ γνώσεως ἔτι καὶ συνεργείας δεῖ τοῖς συναφθῆναι σπεύδουσιν,ἀλλ’ ἱδρύσεως καὶ μονίμου καταστάσεως καὶ ἠρεμίας.But to them that endeavour to be joyned with the first Good, there is no need of knowledge or multifarious cooperation, but settlednesse, steddinesse, and rest.lib. 1. cap. 24. Theolog. Platon. And in the next chapter;Δεῖ γὰρ οὐ γνωστικῶς οὐδ’ ἀτελῶς τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἐπιζητεῖν,ἀλλ’ ἐπιδόντας ἑαυτοὺς τῷ θείῳ φωτὶ καὶ μύσαντας,οὕτως ἐνιδρύεσθαι τῇ ἀγνώστῳ καὶ κρυφίῳ τῶν ὄντων ἑνάδι.For we must not seek after that absolute or first Good cognoscitively or imperfectly, but giving our selves up to the divine light, and winking(that is shutting our eyes of reason and understanding)so to place our selves steddily in that hidden Unitie of all things. After he preferres this faith before the clear and present assent to theκοιναὶ ἔννοιαι, yea and theνοερὰ ἁπλότης, so that he will not that any intellectuall operation should come in comparison with it.Πολυειδὴς γὰρ αἵτη καὶ δι’ ἑτερότητος χωριζομένη τῶν νοουμένων,καὶ ὅλως κίνησίς ἐστι νοερὰ περὶ τὸ νοητόν.Δεῖ δὲ τὴν θείαν πίστιν ἑνοειδῆ καὶ ἤρεμον ὑπάρχειν ἐν τῷ τῆς ἀγαθότητος ὁρμῷ τελείως ἱδρυθεῖσαν.For the operation of the Intellect is multiform and by diversitie separate from her objects, and is in a word, intellectuall motion about the object intelligible. But the divine faith must be simple and uniform, quiet and steddily resting in the haven of Goodnesse.And at last he summarily concludes,Ἐστίοὐν οὗτος ὅρμος ἀσφαλὴς τῶνὄντωνἁπάντων.See Procl. Theolog. Platonick. lib. 1. cap. 25.
Hyle.See Interpret. Gen.
Intellect.Sometimes it is to be interpretedSoul. Sometime the intellectuall facultie of the soul. Sometimes Intellect is an absolute essence shining into the soul: whose nature is this. A substance purely immateriall, impeccable, actually omniform, or comprehending all things at once, which the soul doth also being perfectly joyned with the Intellect.Ἔχομεν οὖν καὶ τὰεἴδηδιχῶς, ἐν μὲν ψυχῇ οἷον μὲνἀνειλιγμένα καὶ οἷον κεχωρισμένα, ἐν δὲ τῷ νῷ ὁμοῦ τὰ πάντα.Plot. Ennead. 1. lib. 1. cap. 8.Ideas, orIdees. Sometimes they are forms in the Intellectuall world.viz.inÆon, orOn, other sometimes, phantasmes or representations in the soul.Innate Ideesare the souls nature it self, her uniform essence, able by herFireto produce this or that phantasme into act.
Logos.See Interpret. Gen.
Life.The vitall operation of any soul. Sometime it is the soul it self, be it sensitive, vegetative, or rationall.
Lower man.The lower man is our enquickned body, into which our soul comes, it being fitly prepared for the receiving of such a guest. The manner of the production of souls, or rather their non-production is admirably well set down in Plotinus, See,Ennead. 6. lib. 4. cap. 14, 15.
Monad.See Interpr. Gen.
Mundane.Mundane spirit, Is that which is the spirit of the world or Universe. I mean by it not an intellectuall spirit, but a fine, unfixt, attenuate, subtill, ethereall substance, the immediate vehicle of plasticall or sensitive life.
Memory.Mundane memory.Is that memory that is seated in theMundanespirit of man, by a strong impression, or inustion of any phantasme, or outward sensible object, upon that spirit. But there is a Memory more subtill and abstract in the soul it self, without the help of this spirit, which she also carries away with her having left the body.
Magicall.That is, attractive, or commanding by force of sympathy with the life of this naturall world.
Moment.Sometimes signifies an instant, as indivisible, asκίνημα, which in motion answers to an instant in time, or a point in a line,Aristot. Phys.In this sense I use it, Psychathan. lib. 3. cant. 2. stanz. 16;But in a moment sol doth ray.But Cant. the 3. Stanz. 45. v. 2. I understand, as also doth Lansbergius, by amomentone second of a minute. In Antipsych. Cant. 2. Stanz. the 20. v. 2. by amomentI understand a minute, or indefinitely any small time.
Orb.Orb Intellectuall, is nothing else but Æon or the Intellectuall world. The Orbs generall mentioned Psycathan. lib. 1. cant. 3. stanz. 23. v. 2. I understand by them but so many universall orders of beings, if I may so terme them all; forHylehath little or nothing of being.
Omniformity.The omniformity of the soul is the having in her nature all forms, latent at least, and power of awaking them into act, upon occasion.
Out-world.andOut-Heaven.The sensible world, the visible Heaven.
Parturient.See,Vaticinant.
Phantasie.Lower phantasie, is that which resides in the Mundane spirit of a man, SeeMemory.
Quantitative.Formsquantitative, are such sensible energies as arise from the complexion of many natures together, at whose discretion they vanish. That’s the seventh Orb of things, though broken and not filling all as the other do. But if you take it for the whole sensible world, it is entire, and is the same thatTasisin Psycozoia. But the centre ofTasis, viz. the multiplication of the reallCuspisof theCone(forHylethat is set for the most contract point of theCuspisis scarce to be reckoned among realities) that immense diffusion of atoms, is to be referred toPsyche, as an internall vegetative act, and so belongs toPhysisthe lowest order of life. For as that warmth that the sense doth afford the body, is not rationall, sensitive, or imaginative, but vegetative; So this,שׁמיםi.e.liquid fire, whichPsychesends out, and is the outmost, last, and lowest operation from her self, is also vegetative.
Rhomboides.See Interpr. general.
Reason.I understand by Reason, the deduction of onething from another, which I conceive proceeds from a kind of continuitie of phantasmes: and is something like the moving of a cord at one end; the parts next it rise with it. And by this concatenation of phantasmes I conceive, that both brutes and men are moved in reasonable wayes and methods in their ordinary externall actions.
Rayes.The rayes of an essence is its energie. SeeEnergie.
Reduplicative.That is reduplicative, which is not onely in this point, but also in another, having a kind of circumscribed ubiquitie,viz.in its own sphear. And this is either by being in that sphear omnipresent it self, as the soul is said to be in the bodytota in toto & tota in qualibet parte, or else at least by propagation of rayes, which is the image of it self; and so are divers sensible objectsReduplicative, as light, colours, sounds. And I make account either of these wayes justly denominate any thing spirituall. Though the former is most properly, at least more eminently spirituall. And whether any thing be after that way spirituall saving the Divinitie, there is reason to doubt. For what is entirely omnipresent in a sphear, whose diametre is but three feet, I see not, why (that in the circumference being as fresh and entire as that in the centre) it should stop there and not proceed evenin infinitum, if the circumference be still as fresh and entire as the centre.But I define nothing.
Spermaticall.It belongs properly to Plants, but is transferred also to the Plasticall power in Animalls, I enlarge it to all magnetick power whatsoever that doth immediately rule and actuate any body. For all magnetick power is founded inPhysis, and in reference to her, this world is but one great Plant, (oneλόγος σπερματικόςgiving it shape and corporeall life) as in reference toPsyche, one happy and holy Animall.
Spirit.Sometimes it signifieth the soul, othersometime, the naturall spirits in a mans body, which areVinculum animæ & corporis, and the souls vehicle: Sometimes life. SeeReduplicative.
Soul.When I speak of mans Soul, I understand that whichMosessaith was inspired into the body, (fitted out and made of earth) by God, Genes. 2. which is not thatimpeccable spirit that cannot sinne; but the very same that the Platonists callψυχή, a middle essence betwixt that which they callνοῦς(and we would in the Christian language callπνεῦμα) and the life of the body which isεἴδωλον ψυχῆς, a kind of an umbratil vitalitie, that the soul imparts to the bodie in the enlivening of it: That and the body together, we Christians would callσὰρξ, and the suggestions of it, especially in its corrupt estate,φρόνημα σαρκός. Andthatwhich God inspired intoAdamwas no more thenψυχὴ, the soul, not the spirit, though it be calledנשמת חייםSpiraculum vitæ; is plain out of the text; because it made man but become a living soul,נפש חיה. But you will say, he was a dead soul before, and this was the spirit of life, yea the spirit of God, the life of the soul that was breathed into him.
But ifחיהimplie such a life and spirit, you must acknowledge the same to be also in the most stupid of all living creatures, even the fishes (whose soul is but as salt to keep them from stinking, as Philo speaks) for they are said to beנשמת חייםchap. 1. v. 20. 21. See 1 Cor. chap. 15, v. 45, 46. In brief therefore, that which in Platonisme isνοῦς, is in Scriptureπνεῦμα; whatσὰρξin one,τὸ θηρίον, the brute or beast in the other,ψυχὴthe same in both.
Self-reduplicative.SeeReduplicative.
Tricentreitie.Centre is put for essence, soTricentreitiemust implie a trinitie of essence. SeeCentre, andEnergie.
Vaticinant.The soul is said to be in avaticinantorparturientcondition, when she hath some kind of sense and hovering knowledge of a thing, but yet cannot distinctly and fully, and commandingly represent it to her self, cannot plainly apprehend, much lesse comprehend the matter. The phrase is borrowed of Proclus, who describing the incomprehensiblenese of God, and the desire of all things towards him, speaks thus;Ἄγνωστον γὰρ ὂν ποθεῖ τὰ ὄντα τὸ ἐφετὸν τοῦτο καὶ ἄληπτον,μήτε οῦν γνῶναι μήτε ἑλεῖν ὁ ποθεῖ,δυνάμενα, περὶ αὐτὸ πάντα χορεύει καὶ ὠδίνει μὲν αὐτὸ καὶ οἷον ἀπομαντεύεται.Theolog. Platon.lib. 1. cap. 21.SeePsychathan. lib. 3. cant. 3. stanz. 12. & 14.