Chapter II: Another Dedication of a Gift-Copy (in Ms.) in the Possession of (2)

These are the windows throgh the which she views
The _light of knowledge_, which is life's loadstar:
"And yet while she these spectacles doth vse,
"Oft worldly things seeme greater then they are.

[Footnote 124: St. Luke, x. 40, 41. G.]

[Footnote 125: On the Dryads Cf. Paus. viii. 4. § 2 Apollon. Rhod. ii. 447, &c. G.]

[Footnote 126: Misprinted 'spring,' but corrected in the errata of 1622 edition, as above. G.]

[Footnote 127: Scent. G.]

SIGHT.

First, the two _eyes_ that haue the _seeing_ power,
Stand as one watchman, spy, or sentinell;
Being plac'd aloft, within the head's high tower;
And though both see, yet both but one thing tell.

These mirrors take into their little space
The formes of _moone_ and _sun_, and euery _starre_;
Of euery body and of euery place,
Which with the World's wide armes embracèd are:

Yet their best obiect, and their noblest vse,
Hereafter in another World will be;
When God in them shall heauenly light infuse,
That face to face they may their _Maker_ see.

Here are they guides, which doe the body lead,
Which else would stumble in eternal night;
Here in this world they do much knowledge _read_,
And are the casements which admit most light:

They are her farthest reaching instrument,
Yet they no beames vnto their obiects send;
But all the rays are from their obiects sent,
And in the _eyes_ with pointed angles end:

If th' obiects be farre off, the rayes doe meet
In a sharpe point, and so things seeme but small;
If they be neere, their rayes doe spread and fleet,
And make broad points, that things seeme great withall.

Lastly, nine things to _Sight_ requirèd are;
The _power_ to see, the _light_, the _visible_ thing,
Being not too _small_, too _thin_, too _nigh_, too _farre_,
_Cleare_ space, and _time_, the forme distinct to bring.

Thus we see how the _Soule_ doth vse the eyes,
As instruments of her quicke power of sight;
Hence do th' Arts _opticke_ and faire _painting_ rise:
_Painting_, which doth all gentle minds delight.

HEARING.

Now let vs heare how she the _Eares_ imployes:
Their office is the troubled ayre to take,
Which in their mazes formes a sound or noyse,
Whereof her selfe doth true distinction make.

These wickets of the _Soule_ are plac't on hie
Because all sounds doe lightly mount aloft;
And that they may not pierce too violently,
They are delaied with turnes, and windings oft.

For should the voice directly strike the braine,
It would astonish and confuse it much;
Therfore these plaits and folds the sound restraine,
That it the organ may more gently touch.

As streames, which with their winding banks doe play,
Stopt by their creeks, run softly through the plaine;
So in th' Eares' labyrinth the voice doth stray,
And doth with easie motion touch the braine.

It is the slowest, yet the daintiest _sense_;
For euen the _Eares_ of such as haue no skill,
Perceiue a discord, and conceiue offence;
And knowing not what is good, yet find the ill.

And though this _sense_ first gentle _Musicke_ found,
Her proper obiect is _the speech of men_;
But that speech chiefely which God's heraulds sound,
When their tongs vtter what His Spirit did pen.

Our _Eyes_ haue lids, our _Eares_ still ope we see,
Quickly to heare how euery tale is proouèd;
Our _Eyes_ still moue, our _Eares_ vnmouèd bee,
That though we hear quick we be not quickly mouèd.

Thus by the organs of the _Eye_ and _Eare_,
The _Soule_ with knowledge doth her selfe endue;
"Thus she her prison, may with pleasure beare,
"Hauing such prospects, all the world to view.

These conduit-pipes of knowledge feed the Mind,
But th' other three attend the Body still;
For by their seruices the _Soule_ doth find,
What things are to the body, good or ill.

TASTE.

The _bodie's_ life with meats and ayre is fed,
Therefore the _soule_ doth vse the _tasting_ power,
In veines, which through the tongue and palate spred,
Distinguish euery relish, sweet and sower.

This is the bodie's _nurse_; but since man's wit
Found th' art of _cookery_, to delight his _sense_;
More bodies are consum'd and kild with it,
Then with the sword, famine, or pestilence.

SMELLING.

_Next_, in the nosthrils she doth vse the _smell_:
As God the _breath of life_ in them did giue,
So makes He now this power in them to dwell,
To iudge all ayres, whereby we _breath_ and _liue_.

This _sense_ is also mistresse of an Art,
Which to soft people sweete perfumes doth sell;
Though this deare Art doth little good impart,
"Sith[128] they smell best, that doe of nothing smell.

And yet good _sents_[129] doe purifie the braine,
Awake the fancie, and the wits refine;
Hence old _Deuotion_, _incense_ did ordaine
To make mens' spirits apt for thoughts diuine.

[Footnote 128: In 1599 and 1608 editions, 'since,' as before. G.]

[Footnote 129: Scents. G.]

FEELING.

_Lastly, the feeling power_, which is Life's root,
Through euery liuing part it selfe doth shed;
By sinewes, which extend from head to foot,
And like a net, all ore the body spred.

Much like a subtill spider, which doth sit
In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide;
If ought doe touch the vtmost thred of it,
Shee feeles it instantly on euery side.

By _Touch_, the first pure qualities we learne,
Which quicken all things, _hote_, _cold_, _moist_ and _dry_;
By _Touch_, _hard_, _soft_, _rough_, _smooth_, we doe discerne;
By _Touch_, _sweet pleasure_, and _sharpe paine_, we try.

* * * * *

These are the outward instruments of Sense,
These are the guards which euery thing must passe
Ere it approch the mind's intelligence,
Or touch the Fantasie, _Wit's looking-glasse_.

THE IMAGINATION OR COMMON SENSE.

And yet these porters, which all things admit,
Themselues perceiue not, nor discerne the things;
One _common_ power doth in the forehead sit,
Which all their proper formes together brings.

For all those _nerues_, which _spirits of Sence_ doe beare,
And to those outward organs spreading goe;
Vnited are, as in a center there,
And there this power those sundry formes doth know.

Those outward organs present things receiue,
This inward _Sense_ doth absent things retaine;
Yet straight transmits all formes shee doth perceiue,
Vnto a higher region of the _braine_.

THE FANTASIE.

Where _Fantasie_, neere _hand-maid_ to the mind,
Sits and beholds, and doth discerne them[130] all;
Compounds in one, things diuers in their kind;
Compares the black and white, the great and small.

Besides, those single formes she doth esteeme,
And in her ballance doth their values trie;
Where some things good, and some things ill doe seem,
And neutrall some, in her _fantasticke_[131] eye.

This busie power is working day and night;
For when the outward _senses_ rest doe take,
A thousand dreames, fantasticall and light,
With fluttring wings doe keepe her still awake.[132]

[Footnote 130: Misprinted 'then' in 1622 edition, but as above correctly in 1599 and 1608 editions. G.]

[Footnote 131: Misprinted 'Fancasticke' in 1622 edition. G.]

THE SENSITIUE MEMORIE.

Yet alwayes all may not afore her bee;
Successiuely, she this and that intends;
Therefore such formes as she doth cease to see,
To _Memorie's_ large volume shee commends.

The _lidger-booke_ lies in the braine behinde,
Like _Ianus'_ eye, which in his poll was set;
The _lay-man's tables, store-house of the mind_,
Which doth remember much, and much forget.

Heere _Sense's apprehension_, end doth take;
As when a stone is into water cast,
One circle doth another circle make,
Till the last circle touch the banke at last.[133]

[Footnote 132: Cf. Milton's Il Penseroso, lines 5-10. G.]

[Footnote 133: Cf. Phineas Fletcher: Purple Island c. v., stanza 47. G.]

THE PASSIONS OF SENSE.

But though the _apprehensiue[134] power_ doe pause,
The _motiue_ vertue then begins to moue;
Which in the heart below doth PASSIONS cause,
_Ioy_, _griefe_, and _feare_, and _hope_, and _hate_, and _loue_.

These passions haue a free commanding might,
And diuers actions in our life doe breed;
For, all acts done without true Reason's light,
Doe from the passion of the _Sense_ proceed.

But sith[135] the _braine_ doth lodge the powers of _Sense_,
How makes it in the heart those passions spring?
The mutuall loue, the kind intelligence
'Twixt heart and braine, this _sympathy_ doth bring.

From the kind heat, which in the heart doth raigne,
The _spirits_ of life doe their begining take;
These _spirits_ of life ascending to the braine,
When they come there, the _spirits of Sense_ do make.

These _spirits of Sense_, in Fantasie's High Court,
Iudge of the formes of _obiects_, ill or well;
And so they send a good or ill report
Downe to the heart, where all affections dwell.

If the report bee _good_, it causeth _loue_,
And longing _hope_, and well-assurèd _ioy_:
If it bee _ill_, then doth it _hatred_ moue,
And trembling _feare_, and vexing _grief's_ annoy.

Yet were these naturall affections good:
(For they which want them, _blockes_ or _deuils_ be)
If _Reason_ in her first perfection stood,
That she might _Nature's_ passions rectifie.

[Footnote 134: Misprinted 'apprehension;' corrected in the errata of 1622 edition from 1599 and 1608 editions. G.]

[Footnote 135: In 1599 and 1608 editions 'since,' as before. G.]

THE MOTION OF LIFE.

Besides, another _motiue_-power doth rise
Out of the heart; from whose pure blood do spring
The _vitall spirits_; which, borne in _arteries_,
Continuall motion to all parts doe bring.

THE LOCALL MOTION.

This makes the pulses beat, and lungs respire,
This holds the sinewes like a bridle's reines;
And makes the Body to aduance, retire,
To turne or stop, as she them[136] slacks, or straines.

Thus the _soule_ tunes the _bodie's_ instrument;
These harmonies she makes with _life_ and _sense_;
The organs fit are by the body lent,
But th' actions flow from the _Soule's_ influence.

THE INTELLECTUALL POWERS OF THE SOULE.

_But now_ I haue a _will_, yet want a _wit_,
To expresse the working of the _wit_ and _will_;
Which, though their root be to the body knit,
Vse not the body, when they vse their skill.

These powers the nature of the _Soule declare_,
For to man's _soule_ these onely proper bee;
For on the Earth no other wights there are
That haue these heauenly powers, but only we.

THE WIT OR UNDERSTANDING.

The WIT, the pupill of the _Soule's_ cleare eye,
And in man's world, the onely shining _starre_;
Lookes in the mirror of the Fantasie,
Where all the gatherings of the _Senses_ are.

From thence this power the shapes of things abstracts,
And them within her _passiue part_ receiues;
Which are enlightned by that part which _acts_,
And so the formes of single things perceiues.

But after, by discoursing to and fro,
Anticipating, and comparing things;
She doth all vniversall natures know,
And all _effects_ into their _causes_ brings.[137]

[Footnote 136: Misprinted 'them' in 1622 edition, corrected as above from 1599 and 1608 editions. G.]

REASON, VNDERSTANDING.

When she _rates_ things and moues from ground to ground,
The name of _Reason_ she obtaines by this;
But when by Reason she the truth hath found,
And _standeth fixt_, she VNDERSTANDING is.

OPINION, JUDGEMENT.

When her assent she _lightly_ doth encline
To either part, she is OPINION[138] light:
But when she doth by principles define
A certaine truth, she hath _true Judgement's_ sight.

And as from _Senses_, _Reason's_ worke doth spring,
So many _reasons understanding_ gaine;
And many _understandings_, _knowledge_ bring;
And by much _knowledge_, _wisdome_ we obtaine.

So, many stayres we must ascend vpright
Ere we attaine to _Wisdome's_ high degree;[139]
So doth this Earth eclipse our Reason's light.
Which else (in instants) would like angels see.

Yet hath the _Soule_ a dowrie naturall,
And _sparkes of light_, some common things to see;
Not being a _blancke_ where nought is writ at all,
But what the writer will, may written be

For Nature in man's heart her lawes doth pen;
Prescribing _truth_ to _wit_, and _good_ to _will_;
Which doe _accuse_, or else _excuse_ all men,
For euery thought or practise, good or ill:

And yet these sparkes grow almost infinite,
Making the World, and all therein their food;
As fire so spreads as no place holdeth it,
Being nourisht still, with new supplies of wood.

And though these sparkes were almost quencht with sin,
Yet they whom that _Iust One_ hath iustifide;
Haue them encreasd with heauenly light within,
And like the _widowe's oyle_ still multiplide.

[Footnote 137: Thomas Davies, as before, mis-prints 'bring.' G.]

[Footnote 138: Thomas Davies and Southey, as before, read 'opinion's light:' but in all the Author's editions it is as above = light opinion: or query is 'hight' = named, meant? G.]

[Footnote 139: Davies, as before, 'decree.' G.]

THE POWER OF WILL.

And as this _wit_ should goodnesse truely know,
We haue a _Will_, which that true good should chuse;
Though _Wil_ do oft (when _wit_ false formes doth show)
Take _ill_ for _good_, and _good_ for _ill_ refuse.

THE RELATIONS BETWIXT WIT AND WILL.

_Will_ puts in practice what the _Wit_ deuiseth:
_Will_ euer acts, and _Wit_ contemplates still;
And as from _Wit_, the power of _wisedome_ riseth,
_All other vertues_ daughters are of _Will_.

_Will_ is the _prince_, and _Wit_ the counseller,
Which doth for common good in Counsell sit;
And when _Wit_ is resolu'd, _Will_ lends her power
To execute what is aduis'd by _Wit_.

_Wit_ is the mind's chief iudge, which doth controule
Of _Fancie's_ Court the iudgements, false and vaine;
_Will_ holds the royall septer in the _soule_
And on[140] the passions of the heart doth raigne.

_Will_ is as free as any emperour,
Naught can restraine her _gentle_ libertie;
No tyrant, nor no torment, hath the power,
To make vs _will_, when we vnwilling bee.

THE INTELLECTUALL MEMORIE.

To these high powers, a store-house doth pertaine,
Where they all arts and generall reasons lay;
Which in the _Soule_, euen after death, remaine
And no _Lethæan_[141] flood can wash away.

This is the _Soule_, and these her vertues bee;
Which, though they haue their sundry proper ends,
And one exceeds another in degree,
Yet each on other mutually depends.

_Our Wit_ is giuen, _Almighty God_ to _know_;
Our _Will_ is giuen to _loue_ Him, being _knowne_;
But God could not be _known_ to vs below,
But by His _workes_ which through the sense are shown.

And as the _Wit_ doth reape the fruits of _Sense_,
So doth the _quickning_ power the _senses feed_;
Thus while they doe their sundry gifts dispence,
"The best, the seruice of the least doth need.

Euen so the King his Magistrates do serue,
Yet Commons feed both magistrate and king;
The Commons' peace the magistrates preserue
By borrowed power, which from the Prince doth spring.

The _quickning power_ would _be_, and so would rest;
The _Sense_ would not _be_ onely, but _be well_;
But _Wit's_ ambition longeth to the _best_,
For it desires in endlesse blisse to dwell.

And these three powers, three[142] sorts of men doe make:
For some, like plants, their veines doe onely fill;
And some, like beasts, their senses' pleasure take;
And some, like angels, doe contemplate still.

Therefore the fables turnd some men to flowres,
And others, did with bruitish formes inuest;
And did of others, make celestiall powers,
Like angels, which still trauell, yet still rest.

Yet these three powers are not three _soules_, but one;
As one and two are both containd in _three_;
_Three_ being one number by it selfe alone:
A shadow of the blessed Trinitie.

[Footnote 140: Here = o'er as on page 61 _ante_. G.]

[Footnote 141: = forgetfulness: from Lethe. G.]

[Footnote 142: A numeral '3' here, and in the next stanza but one. G.]

AN ACCLAMATION.

O! what is Man (great Maker of mankind!)
That Thou to him so great respect dost beare!
That Thou adornst him with so bright a mind,
Mak'st him a king, and euen an angel's peere!

O! what a liuely life, what heauenly power,
What spreading vertue, what a sparkling fire!
How great, how plentifull, how rich a dower
Dost Thou within this dying flesh inspire!

Thou leau'st Thy print in other works of Thine,
But Thy whole image Thou in Man hast writ;
There cannot be a creature more diuine,
Except (like Thee) it should be infinit.

But it exceeds man's thought, to thinke how hie
_God_ hath raisd _Man_, since _God a man_ became;
The angels doe admire this _Misterie_,
And are astonisht when they view the same.

THAT THE SOULE IS IMMORTAL, AND CANNOT DIE.

Nor hath He giuen these blessings for a day,
Nor made them on the bodie's life depend;
The _Soule_ though made in time, _suruives for aye_,
And though it hath beginning, sees no end.

Her onely _end_, is _neuer-ending_ blisse;
Which is, _th' eternall face of God to see_;
Who _Last of Ends_, and _First of Causes_, is:
And to doe this, she must _eternall_ bee.

How senselesse then, and dead a soule hath hee,
Which _thinks_ his _soule_ doth with his body die!
Or _thinkes_ not so, but so would haue it bee,
That he might sinne with more securitie.

For though these light and vicious persons say,
Our _Soule_ is but a smoake, or ayrie blast;
Which, during life, doth in our nostrils play,
And when we die, doth turne to wind at last:

Although they say, '_Come let us eat and drinke_';
Our life is but a sparke, which quickly dies;
Though thus they _say_, they know not what to think,
But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise.

Therefore no heretikes desire to spread
Their light opinions, like these _Epicures_:[143]
For so the staggering thoughts are comfortèd,
And other men's assent their doubt assures.

Yet though these men against their conscience striue,
There are some sparkles in their flintie breasts
Which cannot be extinct, but still reuiue;
That though they would, they cannot quite bee _beasts_;

But who so makes a mirror of his mind,
And doth with patience view himselfe therein,
His _Soule's_ eternitie shall clearely find,
Though th' other beauties be defac't with sin.

REASON I.

DRAWNE FROM THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE.

First _in Man's mind_ we find an appetite
To _learne_ and _know the truth_ of euery thing;
Which is co-naturall, and borne with it,
And from the _essence_ of the _soule_ doth spring.

With this _desire_, shee hath a natiue _might_
To find out euery truth, if she had time;
Th' innumerable effects to sort aright,
And by degrees, from cause to cause to clime.

But sith our life so fast away doth slide,
As doth a hungry eagle through the wind,
Or as a ship transported with the tide;
Which in their passage leaue no print behind;

Of which swift little time so much we spend,
While some few things we through the sense doe straine;
That our short race of life is at an end,
Ere we the principles of skill attaine.

Or God (which to vaine ends hath nothing done)
In vaine this _appetite_ and _power_ hath giuen;
Or else our knowledge, which is here begun,
Hereafter must bee perfected in heauen.

God neuer gaue a _power_ to one whole kind,
But most part of that kind did vse the same;
Most eies haue perfect sight, though some be blind;
Most legs can nimbly run, though some be lame:

But in this life no _soule_ the truth can know
So perfectly, as it hath power to doe;
If then perfection be not found below,
An higher place must make her mount thereto.

[Footnote 143: = disciples of Epicurus's Philosophy. G.]

REASON II.

DRAWN FROM THE MOTION OF THE SOULE.

_Againe_ how can shee but immortall bee?
When with the motions of both _Will_ and _Wit_,
She still aspireth to eternitie,
And neuer rests, till she attaine to it?

Water in conduit pipes, can rise no higher
Then the wel-head, from whence it first doth spring:
Then sith to eternall GOD shee doth aspire,
Shee cannot be but an eternall thing.

"All mouing things to other things doe moue,
"Of the same kind, which shews their nature such;
So _earth_ falls downe and _fire_ doth mount aboue,
Till both their proper elements doe touch.

THE SOUL COMPARED TO A RIUER.

_And as_ the moysture, which the thirstie earth
Suckes from the sea, to fill her emptie veines,
From out her wombe at last doth take a birth,
And runs a _Nymph_[144] along the grassie plaines:

[Footnote 144: Davies and Southey, as before, have the extraordinary misprint here of 'lymph.' Cf. 'Orchestra,' stanza 63, which explains the personification. G.]

Long doth shee stay, as loth to leaue the land,
From whose soft side she first did issue make;
Shee tastes all places, turnes to euery hand,
Her flowry bankes vnwilling to forsake:

Yet _Nature_ so her streames doth lead and carry,
As that her course doth make no finall stay,
Till she her selfe vnto the _Ocean_ marry,
Within whose watry bosome first she lay:

Euen so the _Soule_ which in this earthly mold
The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse;
Because at first she doth the earth behold,
And onely this materiall world she viewes:

At first her _mother-earth_ she holdeth deare,
And doth embrace the world and worldly things:
She flies close by the ground, and houers here,
And mounts not vp with her celestiall wings.

Yet vnder heauen she cannot light on ought
That with her heauenly _nature_ doth agree;
She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought,
She cannot in this world contented bee:

For who did euer yet, in _honour_, _wealth_,
Or _pleasure of the sense_, contentment find?
Who euer ceasd to wish, when he had _health_?
Or hauing _wisedome_ was not vext in mind?

Then as a _bee_ which among weeds doth fall,
Which seeme sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay;
She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all,
But pleasd with none, doth rise, and soare away;

So, when the _Soule_ finds here no true content,
And, like _Noah's_ doue, can no sure footing take;
She doth returne from whence she first was sent,
And flies to _Him_ that first her wings did make.

_Wit_, seeking _Truth_, from cause to cause ascends,
And neuer rests, till it the _first_ attaine:
_Will_, seeking _Good_, finds many middle ends,
But neuer stayes, till it the _last_ doe gaine.

Now God, the _Truth_, and _First of Causes_ is:
God is the _Last Good End_, which lasteth still;
Being _Alpha_ and _Omega_ nam'd for this;
_Alpha_ to _Wit_, _Omega_ to the _Will_.

Sith[145] then her heauenly kind shee doth bewray,
In that to God she doth directly moue;
And on no mortall thing can make her stay,
She cannot be from hence, but from _aboue_.

[Footnote 145: In 1599 and 1608 editions, 'since,' as before. G.]

And yet this _First True Cause_, and _Last Good End_,
Shee cannot heere so _well_, and _truely_ see;
For this perfection shee must yet attend,
Till to her _Maker_ shee espousèd bee.

As a _king's_ daughter, being in person sought
Of diuers princes, who doe neighbour neere;
On none of them can fixe a constant thought,
Though shee to all doe lend a gentle eare:

Yet she can loue a forraine _emperour_,
Whom of great worth and power she heares to be;
If she be woo'd but by _embassadour_,
Or but his _letters_, or his pictures see:

For well she knowes, that when she shalbe brought
Into the _kingdome_ where her _Spouse_ doth raigne;
Her eyes shall see what she conceiu'd in thought,
Himselfe, his state, his glory, and his traine.

So while the _virgin Soule_ on _Earth_ doth stay,
She woo'd and tempted is ten thousand wayes,
By these great powers, which on the _Earth_ beare sway;
The _wisdom of the World_, _wealth_, _pleasure_, _praise_:

With these sometime she doth her time beguile,
These doe by fits her Fantasie possesse;
But she distastes them all within a while,
And in the sweetest finds a tediousnesse.

But if upon the World's Almighty King
She once doe fixe her humble louing thought;
Who by His _picture_, drawne in euery thing,
And _sacred messages_, her _loue_ hath sought;

Of Him she thinks, she cannot thinke too much;
This hony tasted still, is euer sweet;
The pleasure of her rauisht thought is such,
As almost here, she with her blisse doth meet:

But when in Heauen she shall His _Essence_ see,
This is her _soueraigne good, and perfect blisse_:
Her longings, wishings, hopes all finisht be,
Her ioyes are full, her motions rest in this:

There is she crownd with garlands of _content_,
There doth she manna eat, and nectar drinke;
That Presence doth such high delights present,
As neuer tongue could speake, nor heart could thinke.

REASON III.

FROM CONTEMPT OF DEATH IN THE BETTER SORT OF SPIRITS.

_For this_ the better _Soules_ doe oft despise
The bodie's death, and doe it oft desire;
For when on ground, the burdened ballance lies
The emptie part is lifted vp the higher:

But if the bodie's death the _soule_ should kill,
Then death must needs _against her nature_ bee;
And were it so, all _soules_ would flie it still,
"For Nature hates and shunnes her contrary.

For all things else, which Nature makes to bee,
Their _being_ to preserue, are chiefly taught;
And though some things desire a change to see,
Yet neuer thing did long to turne to naught.

If then by death the _soule_ were quenchèd quite,
She could not thus against her nature runne;
Since euery senselesse thing, by Nature's light,
Doth preservation seeke, destruction shunne.

Nor could the World's best spirits so much erre,
If death tooke all--that they should all agree,
Before this life, their _honour_ to preferre;
For what is praise to things that nothing bee?

Againe, if by the bodie's prop she stand;
If on the bodie's life, her life depend;
As _Meleager's_ on the fatall brand[146],--
The bodie's good shee onely would intend:

We should not find her half so braue and bold,
To leade it to the Warres and to the seas;
To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold,
When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease.

Doubtlesse all _Soules_ have a suruiuing thought;
Therefore of death we thinke with quiet mind;
But if we thinke of _being turn'd to nought_,
A trembling horror in our _soules_ we find.

[Footnote 146: Apollod I., 8, § 2, _et alibi_: Ovid, _Met._ viii., 450; _et seq_: 531: Diod. IV., 34. G.]

REASON IV.

FROM THE FEARE OF DEATH IN THE WICKED SOULES.

_And as_ the better spirit, when shee doth beare
A scorne of death, doth shew she cannot die;
So when the wicked _Soule_ Death's face doth feare,
Euen then she proues her owne eternitie.

For when Death's forme appeares, she feareth not
An vtter quenching or extinguishment;
She would be glad to meet with such a lot,
That so she might all future ill preuent:

But shee doth doubt what after may befall;
For Nature's law accuseth her within;
And saith, 'Tis true that is affirm'd by all,
_That after death there is a paine for sin_.

Then she which hath bin hud-winkt from her birth,
Doth first her selfe within Death's mirror see;
And when her body doth returne to earth,
She first takes care, how she alone shall bee.

Who euer sees these irreligious men,
With burthen of a sicknesse weake and faint;
But heares them talking of Religion then,
And vowing of their _soules_ to euery saint?

When was there euer cursèd _atheist_ brought
Vnto the _gibbet_,[147] but he did adore
That blessed Power, which he had set at nought,
Scorn'd and blasphemèd all his life before?

These light vaine persons still are drunke and mad,
With surfettings and pleasures of their youth;
But at their deaths they are fresh,[148] sober, sad
Then they discerne, and then they speake the truth.

If then all _Soules_, both good and bad, doe teach,
With generall voice, that _soules_ can neuer die;
'Tis not man's flattering glosse, but _Nature's speech_,
Which, like _God's_ Oracle, can neuer lie.

REASON V.

FROM THE BENERALL DESIRE OF IMMORTALITIE.

_Hence springs_ that vniuersall strong desire,
Which all men haue of Immortalitie:
Not some few spirits vnto this thought aspire,
But all mens' minds in this vnited be.

Then this desire of Nature is not vaine,
"She couets not impossibilities;
"Fond thoughts may fall into some idle braine,
"But one _assent_ of all, is euer wise.

From hence that generall care and study springs,
That _launching_ and _progression of the mind_;
Which all men haue so much, of future things,
That they no ioy doe in the present find.

From this desire, that maine desire proceeds,
Which all men haue suruiuing Fame to gaine;
By _tombes_, by _bookes_, by memorable _deeds_:
For she that this desires, doth still remaine.

Hence lastly, springs care of posterities,
For things their kind would euerlasting make;
Hence is it that old men do plant young trees,
The fruit whereof another age shall take.

If we these rules vnto our selues apply,
And view them by reflection of the mind;
All these true notes of immortalitie
In our _heart's tables_ we shall written find.

[Footnote 147: Spelled in 1622 edition 'Iiebbet,' but in 1599 and 1608 as above. G.]

[Footnote 148: = active, vigorous: an uncommon use of the word. G.]

REASON VI.

FROM THE VERY DOUBT AND DISPUTATION OF IMMORTALITIE.

_And though_ some impious wits do questions moue,
And doubt if _Soules_ immortall be, or no;
That _doubt_ their immortalitie doth proue,
Because they seeme immortall things to know.

For he which reasons on both parts doth bring,
Doth some things mortall, some immortall call;
Now, if himselfe were but a mortall thing,
He could not iudge immortall things at all.

For when we iudge, our minds we mirrors make:
And as those glasses which materiall bee,
Formes of materiall things doe onely take,
For _thoughts_ or _minds_ in them we cannot see;

So, when we God and angels do conceiue,
And thinke of _truth_, which is eternall too;
Then doe our minds immortall formes receiue,
Which if they mortall were, they could not doo:

And as, if beasts conceiu'd what Reason were,
And that conception should distinctly show,
They should the name of _reasonable_ beare;
For without _Reason_, none could _Reason_ know:

So, when the _Soule_ mounts with so high a wing,
As of eternall things she _doubts_ can moue;
Shee proofes of her eternitie doth bring,
Euen when she striues the contrary to proue.

For euen the _thought_ of immortalitie,
Being an act done without the bodie's ayde;
Shewes, that her selfe alone could moue and bee,
Although the body in the graue were layde.

THAT THE SOULE CANNOT BE DESTROYED.

And if her selfe she can so liuely moue,
And neuer need a forraine helpe to take;
Then must her motion euerlasting proue,
"Because her selfe she neuer can forsake.

HER CAUSE CEASETH NOT.

_But though_ corruption cannot touch the minde,
By any cause that from it selfe may spring;
Some outward cause Fate hath perhaps designd,
Which to the _Soule_ may vtter quenching bring.

SHE HATH NO CONTRARY.

_Perhaps_ her cause may cease, and she may die;
God is her _cause_, His _Word_ her Maker was;
Which shall stand fixt for all eternitie
When Heauen and Earth shall like a shadow passe.

_Perhaps_ some thing repugnant to her kind,
By strong _antipathy_, the _Soule_ may kill;
But what can be _contrary_ to the minde,
Which holds all _contraries_ in concord still?

She lodgeth heat, and cold, and moist, and dry,
And life, and death, and peace, and war together;
Ten thousand fighting things in her doe lye,
Yet neither troubleth, or disturbeth either.

SHEE CANNOT DIE FOR WANT OF FOOD.

_Perhaps_ for want of food the _soule_ may pine;
But that were strange, sith all things _bad_ and _good_,
Sith all God's creature's _mortall_ and _diuine_,
Sith _God Himselfe_, is her eternall food.

Bodies are fed with things of mortall kind,
And so are subiect to mortalitie;
But _Truth_ which is eternall, feeds the mind;
The _Tree of life_, which will not let her die.

VIOLENCE CANNOT DESTROY HER.

_Yet violence_, perhaps the _Soule_ destroyes:
As lightning, or the _sun-beames_ dim the sight;
Or as a thunder-clap, or cannons' noyse,
The power of hearing doth astonish quite.

But high perfection to the _Soule_ it brings,
T' encounter things most excellent and high;
For, when she views the best and greatest things
They do not hurt, but rather cleare her[149] eye,

Besides,--as _Homer's gods_ 'gainst armies stand,--
Her subtill forme can through all dangers slide;
_Bodies are captiue_, _minds_ endure no band,
"And Will is free, and can no force abide.

TIME CANNOT DESTROY HER.

_But lastly_, _Time_ perhaps at last hath power
To spend her liuely powers, and quench her light;
But old god _Saturne_ which doth all deuoure,
Doth cherish her, and still augment her might.

Heauen waxeth old, and all the _spheres_ aboue
Shall one day faint, and their swift motion stay;
And _Time_ it selfe in time shall cease to moue;
_Onely the Soule suruives_, and liues for aye.

"Our Bodies, euery footstep that they make,
"March towards death, vntill at last they die;
"Whether we worke, or play, or sleepe, or wake,
"Our life doth passe, and with _Time's_ wings doth flie:

But to the _Soule_ Time doth perfection giue,
And ads fresh lustre to her beauty still;
And makes her in eternall youth to liue,
Like her which nectar to the gods doth fill.[150]

The more she liues, the more she feeds on _Truth_;
The more she feeds, her _strength_ doth more increase:
And what is _strength_, but an effect of _youth_?
Which if _Time_ nurse, how can it euer cease?

[Footnote 149: Thomas Davies and Southey, as before, misread 'the.' G.]

OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE IMMORTALITIE OF THE SOULE.

_But now_ these _Epicures_ begin to smile,
And say, my doctrine is more false then true;
And that I fondly doe my selfe beguile,
While these receiu'd opinions I ensue.

[Footnote 150: Hebe. G.]

OBJECTION I.

For what, say they, doth not the _Soule_ waxe old?
How comes it then that agèd men doe dote;
And that their braines grow sottish, dull and cold,
Which were in youth the onely spirits of note?

What? are not _Soules_ within themselues corrupted?
How can there idiots then by nature bee?
How is it that some wits are interrupted,
That now they dazeled are, now clearely see?

ANSWERE.

_These questions_ make a subtill argument,
To such as thinke both _sense_ and _reason_ one;
To whom nor agent, from the instrument,
Nor power of working, from the work is known.

But they that know that wit can shew no skill,
But when she things in _Sense's glasse_ doth view;
Doe know, if accident this glasse doe spill,
It _nothing sees_, or _sees the false for true_.

For, if that region of the tender braine,
Where th' inward sense of Fantasie should sit,
And the outward senses gatherings should retain,
By Nature, or by chance, become vnfit;

Either at first vncapable it is,
And so few things, or none at all receiues;
Or mard by accident, which haps amisse
And so amisse it euery thing perceiues.

Then, as a cunning prince that vseth _spyes_,
If they returne no newes doth nothing know;
But if they make aduertisement of lies,
The Prince's Counsel all awry doe goe.

Euen so the _Soule_ to such a body knit,
Whose inward senses vndisposèd be,
And to receiue the formes of things vnfit;
Where nothing is brought in, can nothing see.

This makes the idiot, which hath yet a mind,
Able to _know_ the truth, and _chuse_ the good;
If she such figures in the braine did find,
As might be found, if it in temper stood.

But if a _phrensie_ doe possesse the braine,
It so disturbs and blots the formes of things;
As Fantasie prooues altogether vaine,
And to the Wit no true relation brings.

Then doth the Wit, admitting all for true,
Build fond[151] conclusions on those idle grounds;
Then doth it flie the good, and ill pursue,
Beleeuing all that this false _spie_ propounds.

But purge the humors, and the rage appease,
Which this distemper in the fansie wrought;
Then shall the _Wit_, which never had disease,
Discourse, and iudge discreetly, as it ought.

So, though the clouds eclipse the _sunne's_ faire light,
Yet from his face they doe not take one beame;
So haue our eyes their perfect power of sight,
Euen when they looke into a troubled streame.

Then these defects in _Senses'_ organs bee,
Not in the _soule_ or in her working might;
She cannot lose her perfect power to see,
Thogh mists and clouds do choke her window light.

These imperfections then we must impute,
Not to the agent but the instrument;
We must not blame _Apollo_, but his lute,
If false accords from her false strings be sent.

The _Soule_ in all hath one intelligence;
Though too much moisture in an infant's braine,
And too much drinesse in an old man's sense,
Cannot the prints of outward things retaine:

Then doth the _Soule_ want worke, and idle sit,
And this we _childishnesse_ and _dotage_ call;
Yet hath she then a quicke and actiue Wit,
If she had stuffe and tooles to worke withall:

For, giue her organs fit, and obiects faire;
Giue but the aged man, the young man's sense;
Let but _Medea_, _Æson's_ youth repaire,[152]
And straight she shewes her wonted excellence.

As a good harper stricken farre in yeares,
Into whose cunning hand the gowt is fall;[153]
All his old crotchets in his braine he beares,
But on his harpe playes ill, or not at all.

But if _Apollo_ takes his gowt away,
That hee his nimble fingers may apply;
_Apollo's_ selfe will enuy at his play,
And all the world applaud his minstralsie.

Then _dotage_ is no weaknesse of the mind,
But of the _Sense_; for if the mind did waste,
In all old men we should this wasting find,
When they some certaine terme of yeres had past:

But most of them, euen to their dying howre,
Retaine a mind more liuely, quicke, and strong;
And better vse their vnderstanding power,
Then when their braines were warm, and lims were yong.

For, though the body wasted be and weake,
And though the leaden forme of earth it beares;
Yet when we heare that halfe-dead body speake,
We oft are rauisht to the heauenly _spheares_.

[Footnote 151: Foolish. G.]

[Footnote 152: Ovid, _Met._ vii. 163, 250 _et alibi_. G.]

[Footnote 153: _Sic_: and also onward. G.]

OBJECTION II.

Yet say these men, If all her organs die,
Then hath the _soule_ no power her powers to vse;
So, in a sort, her powers extinct doe lie,
When vnto _act_ shee cannot them reduce.

And if her powers be dead, then what is shee?
For sith from euery thing some powers do spring,
And from those powers, some _acts_ proceeding bee,
Then kill both _power_ and _act_, and kill the _thing_.

ANSWERE.

_Doubtlesse_ the bodie's death when once it dies,
The instruments of sense and life doth kill;
So that she cannot vse those faculties,
Although their root rest in her substance still.

But (as the body liuing) _Wit_ and _Will_
Can _iudge_ and _chuse_, without the bodie's ayde;
Though on such obiects they are working still,
As through the bodie's organs are conuayde:

So, when the body serues her turne no more,
And all her _Senses_ are extinct and gone,
She can discourse of what she learn'd before,
In heauenly contemplations, all alone.

So, if one man well on a lute doth play,
And haue good horsemanship, and Learning's skill;
Though both his lute and horse we take away,
Doth he not keep his former learning still?

He keepes it doubtlesse, and can vse it to[o];
And doth both th' other _skils_ in power retaine;
And can of both the proper actions doe,
If with his lute or horse he meet againe.

So (though the instruments by which we liue,
And view the world, the bodie's death doe kill;)[154]
Yet with the body they shall all reuiue,
And all their wonted offices fulfill.

OBJECTION III.

_But how_, till then, shall she herselfe imploy?
Her spies are dead which brought home newes before;
What she hath got and keepes, she may enioy,
But she hath meanes to vnderstand no more.

Then what do those poore _soules_, which nothing get?
Or what doe those which get, and cannot keepe?
Like buckets[155] bottomlesse, which all out-let
Those _Soules_, for want of exercise, must sleepe.

ANSWERE.

_See how_ man's _Soule_ against it selfe doth striue:
Why should we not haue other meanes to know?
As children while within the wombe they liue,
Feed by the nauill: here they feed not so.

These children, if they had some vse of sense,
And should by chance their mothers' talking heare;
That in short time they shall come forth from thence,
Would feare their birth more then our death we feare.

They would cry out, 'If we this place shall leaue,
Then shall we breake our tender nauill strings;
How shall we then our nourishment receiue,
Sith our sweet food no other conduit brings?'

And if a man should to these babes reply,
That into this faire world they shall be brought;
Where they shall see the Earth, the Sea, the Skie,
The glorious Sun, and all that God hath wrought:

That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet,
Which by their mouthes they shall with pleasure take;
Which shall be cordiall too, as wel as sweet,
And of their little limbes, tall bodies make:

This would[156] they thinke a fable, euen as we
Doe thinke the _story_ of the _Golden Age_;
Or as some sensuall spirits amongst vs bee,
Which hold the _world to come, a fainèd stage_:

Yet shall these infants after find all true,
Though then thereof they nothing could conceiue;
As soone as they are borne, the world they view,
And with their mouthes, the nurses'-milke receiue.

So, when the _Soule_ is borne (for Death is nought
But the _Soule's_ birth, and so we should it call)
Ten thousand things she sees beyond her thought,
And in an vnknowne manner knowes them all.

Then doth she see by spectacles no more,
She heares not by report of double spies;
Her selfe in instants doth all things explore,
For each thing present, and before her, lies.

[Footnote 154: The parenthetic marks are as _supra_: but perhaps they ought to begin at 'by' and end with 'world.' G.]

[Footnote 155: Davies and Southey, as before, oddly misprint 'bucklers.' G.]

[Footnote 156: Misprinted 'world,' but corrected in the errata of 1622 edition. Davies and Southey, as before, repeat the misprint, and accommodate 'they' to it by reading 'they'd:' so rare is it to recur to an author's own text. G.]

OBJECTION IV.

_But still_ this crue with questions me pursues:
If _soules_ deceas'd (say they) still liuing bee;
Why do they not return, to bring vs newes
Of that strange world, where they such wonders see?[157]

[Footnote 157:

'Tell us, ye dead, will none of you in pity,
To those you left behind, disclose the secret?

Oh! that some courteous ghost would blab it out;
What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be.'

ROBERT BLAIR: 'The Grave.' G.]

ANSWERE.

_Fond[158] men!_ If we beleeue that men doe liue
Vnder the _Zenith_ of both frozen _Poles_,
Though none come thence aduertisement to giue;
Why beare we not the like faith of our _soules_?

The _soule_ hath here on Earth no more to doe,
Then we haue businesse in our mother's wombe;
What child doth couet to returne thereto?
Although all children first from thence do come?

But as _Noah's_ pidgeon, which return'd no more,
Did shew, she footing found, for all the Flood;
So when good soules, departed through Death's dore,
Come not againe, it shewes their dwelling good.

And doubtlesse, such a _soule_ as vp doth mount,
And doth appeare before her Maker's Face;
Holds this vile world in such a base account,
As she looks down, and scorns this wretched place.

But such as are detruded downe to Hell,
Either for shame, they still themselues retire;
Or tyed in chaines, they in close prison dwell,
And cannot come, although they much desire.

[Footnote 158: Foolish. G.]

OBJECTION V.

_Well, well_, say these vaine spirits, though vaine it is
To thinke our _Soules_ to Heauen or Hell to[159] goe,
_Politike_ men haue thought it not amisse,
To spread this _lye_, to make men vertuous so.

ANSWERE.

_Doe you_ then thinke this _morall vertue_ good?
I thinke you doe, euen for your priuate gaine;
For Common-wealths by _vertue_ euer stood,
And common good the priuate doth containe.

If then this _vertue_ you doe loue so well,
Haue you no meanes, her practise to maintaine;
But you this lye must to the people tell,
That good _Soules_ liue in ioy, and ill in paine?

Must _vertue_ be preseruèd by a _lye_?
_Vertue_ and _Truth_ do euer best agree;
By this it seemes to be a veritie,
Sith the effects so good and vertuous bee.

For, as the deuill father is of lies,
So vice and mischiefe doe his lyes ensue;
Then this good doctrine did not he deuise,
But made this _lye_, which saith it is not true.

[Footnote 159: In 1599 and 1608 editions, 'do.' G.]

THE GENERALL CONSENT OF ALL.

_For how_ can that be false, which euery tongue
Of euery mortall man affirmes for true?
Which truth hath in all ages been so strong,
As lodestone-like, all hearts it euer drew.

For, not the _Christian_, or the _Iew_ alone,
The _Persian_, or the _Turke_, acknowledge this;
This mysterie to the wild _Indian_ knowne,
And to the _Canniball_ and _Tartar_ is.

This rich _Assyrian_ drugge growes euery where;
As common in the _North_, as in the _East_;
This doctrine does not enter by the _eare_,
But of it selfe is natiue in the breast.

None that acknowledge God, or prouidence,
Their _Soule's_ eternitie did euer doubt;
For all _Religion_ takes her root from hence,
Which no poore naked nation liues without.

For sith the World for Man created was,
(For onely Man the vse thereof doth know)
If man doe perish like a withered grasse,
How doth God's Wisedom order things below?

And if that Wisedom still wise ends propound,
Why made He man, of other creatures King?
When (if he perish here) there is not found
In all the world so poor and vile a thing?

If death do quench vs quite, we haue great wrong,
Sith for our seruice all things else were wrought;
That _dawes_, and _trees_, and _rocks_, should last so long,
When we must in an instant passe to nought.

But blest be that _Great Power_, that hath vs blest
With longer life then Heauen or Earth can haue;
Which hath infus'd into our mortall breast
Immortall powers, not subiect to the graue.

For though the Soule doe seeme her graue to beare,
And in this world is almost buried quick;
We haue no cause the bodie's death to feare,
For when the shell is broke, out comes a chick.

THREE KINDS OF LIFE ANSWERABLE TO THE THREE POWERS OF THE SOULE.

_For_ as the _soule's essentiall_ powers are three,
The _quickning power_, the _power of sense_ and _reason_;
Three kinds of life to her designèd bee,
Which perfect these three[160] powers in their due season.

The first life, in the mother's wombe is spent,
Where she her _nursing power_ doth onely vse;
Where, when she finds defect of nourishment,
Sh' expels her body, and this world she viewes.

This we call _Birth_; but if the child could speake,
He _Death_ would call it; and of Nature plaine,[161]
That she would thrust him out naked and weake,
And in his passage pinch him with such paine.

Yet, out he comes, and in this world is plac't,
Where all his _Senses_ in perfection bee;
Where he finds flowers to smell, and fruits to taste;
And sounds to heare, and sundry formes to see.

When he hath past some time vpon this stage,
His _Reason_ then a litle seemes to wake;
Which, thogh she spring, when sense doth fade with age,
Yet can she here no perfect practise make.

Then doth th' aspiring _Soule_ the body leaue,
Which we call _Death_; but were it knowne to all,
What _life_ our _soules_ do by this _death_ receiue,
Men would it _birth_ or _gaole[162] deliuery_ call.

In this third life, Reason will be so bright,
As that her sparke will like the _sun-beames_ shine;
And shall of God enioy the reall sight.
Being still increast by influence diuine.

[Footnote 160: Numeral '3,' as before, in 1622 edition. G.]

[Footnote 161: _Id est_ 'complain.' G.]

AN ACCLAMATION.

O Ignorant poor man! what dost thou beare
Lockt vp within the casket of thy brest?
What iewels, and what riches hast thou there!
What heauenly treasure in so weake a chest!

Looke in thy _soule_, and thou shalt _beauties_ find,
Like those which drownd _Narcissus_ in the flood:[163]
_Honour_ and _Pleasure_ both are in thy mind,
And all that in the world is counted _Good_.

Thinke of her worth, and think that God did meane,
This worthy mind should worthy things imbrace;
Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts vnclean,
Nor her dishonour with thy passions base;

Kill not her _quickning power_ with surfettings,
Mar not her _Sense_ with sensualitie;
Cast not her serious[164] wit on idle things:
Make not her free-_will_, slaue to vanitie.

And when thou think'st of her _eternitie_,
Thinke not that _Death_ against her nature is,
Thinke it a _birth_; and when thou goest to die,
Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to blisse.[165]

And if thou, like a child, didst feare before,
Being in the darke, where thou didst nothing see;
Now I haue broght thee _torch-light_, feare no more;
Now when thou diest, thou canst not hud-winkt be.

And thou my _Soule_, which turn'st thy curious eye,
To view the beames of thine owne forme diuine;
Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly,
While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine.

Take heed of _ouer-weening_, and compare
Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's traine;[166]
Study the best, and highest things that are,
But of thy selfe an humble thought retaine.

Cast downe thy selfe, and onely striue to raise
The glory of thy Maker's sacred Name;
Vse all thy powers, that Blessed Power to praise,
Which giues thee power to _bee_, and _vse the same_.

[Footnote 162: 'Goale' in 1608 edition. G.]

[Footnote 163: See Ovid, _Met._ III., 341 _et alibi_, and Eustathius (ad Hom. p. 266). G.]

[Footnote 164: 'Serious' dropped by Davies and Southey, as before. G.]

[Footnote 165: Cf. Sir Thomas Browne: 'Vulgar Errors,' _s.v._ G.]

[Footnote 166: More usually applied to the swan: as ancient WORSHIP puts it 'The whitest swanne hath a blacke foot:' 'Christian's Mourning Garment.' G.]

$Finis.$

$Appendix.$

REMARKS PREFIXED TO NAHUM TATE'S EDITION (1697) OF 'NOSCE TEIPSUM.'[167]

There is a natural love and fondness in Englishmen for whatever was done in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. We look upon her time as our golden age; and the great men who lived in it, as our chiefest heroes of virtue, and greatest examples of wisdom, courage, integrity and learning.

[Footnote 167: The Original, Nature, and Immortality of the Soul. A Poem. With an Introduction concerning Humane Knowledge. Written by Sir John Davies, Attorney-General to Q. Elizabeth. With a Prefatory Account concerning the Author and Poem. London, Printed by W. Rogers at the Sun against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet street. 1697'--TATE informs us that the 'Remarks' were 'written by an ingenious and learned Divine'--It will be noticed that they finish somewhat abruptly: and while there is 'account' of the Poem, none of the Author.'--Dr. BLISS, in his edition of Anthony-a-Wood's ATHENÆ, describes above as containing only the second portion: but he is mistaken: the Poem is given completely.]

Among many others, the author of this poem merits a lasting honour; for, as he was a most eloquent lawyer, so, in the composition of this piece, we admire him for a good poet and exact philosopher. 'Tis not rhyming that makes a poet, but the true and impartial representing of virtue and vice, so as to instruct mankind in matters of greatest importance. And this observation has been made of our countrymen, That Sir John Suckling wrote in the most courtly and gentleman-like style; Waller in the most sweet and flowing numbers; Denham with the most accurate judgment and correctness; Cowley with pleasing softness and plenty of imagination: none ever uttered more divine thought than Mr. Herbert; none more philosophical than Sir John Davies. His thoughts are moulded into easy and significant words; his rhymes never mislead the sense, but are led and governed by it: so that in reading such useful performances, the wit of mankind may be refined from its dross, their memories furnished with the best notions, their judgments strengthened, and their conceptions enlarged: by which means the mind will be raised to the most perfect ideas it is capable of in this degenerate state.