HER 1 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 do this, she must eternall bee. | |
| |
| How senselesse then, and dead a soule hath hee, | 5 |
| Which thinks his soule doth with his body dye; | |
| Or thinks 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 smoke, or aiery blast, | 10 |
| Which during life doth in her nostrils play, | |
| And when we die, doth turne to wind at last: | |
| |
| Although they say, Come, let vs eat and drinke; | |
| Our life is but a sparke which quickly dyes: | |
| Though thus they say, they know not what to thinke, | 15 |
| But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise. | |
| |
| Therefore no heretikes desire to spread | |
| Their light opinions, like these Epicures; | |
| For so their staggering thoughts are comforted, | |
| And other mens assent their doubt assures. | 20 |
| |
| 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 be beasts. | |
| |
| But whoso makes a mirror of his mind, | 25 |
| And doth with patience view himselfe therein, | |
| His soules eternity shall cleerly find, | |
| Though th other beauties be defact with sinne. | |
| |
| First, in mans minde we find an appetite | |
| To learne and know the truth of euerie thing, | 30 |
| Which is connaturall and borne with it, | |
| And from the Essence of the Soule doth spring. | |
| |
| With this desire shee hath a natiue might | |
| To find out euerie truth, if she had time; | |
| Th innumerable effectes to sort aright, | 35 |
| And by degrees from cause to cause to clime. | |
| |
| But since 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: | 40 |
| |
| Of which swift litle time so much we spend, | |
| While some few things we through the sense do 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) | 45 |
| In vaine this appetite and powr hath giuen; | |
| Or else our knowledge, which is here begon, | |
| Hereafter must bee perfected in heauen. | |
| |
| God neuer gave a powr to one whole kind, | |
| But most part of that kinde did vse the same; | 50 |
| Most eyes haue perfect sight, though some be blind; | |
| Most leggs can nymbly run, though some be lame. | |
| |
| But in this life no soule the truth can know | |
| So perfectly, as it hath powr to doe: | |
| If then perfection be not found below, | 55 |
| An higher place must make her mount thereto. | |
| |
| 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 shee attaine to it? | 60 |
| |
| Water in conduit-pipes can rise no higher | |
| Than the well-head from whence it first doth spring: | |
| Then since to eternall God she doth aspire, | |
| Shee cannot be but an eternall thing. | |
| |
| All mouing things to other things do moue | 65 |
| Of the same kind, which shewes their nature such: | |
| So earth fals downe, and fire doth mount aboue, | |
| Till both their proper elements do touch. | |
| |
| And as the moysture which the thirstie earth | |
| Suckes from the sea to fill her emptie veines, | 70 |
| From out her wombe at last doth take a birth, | |
| And runnes a nymph along the grassie plaines: | |
| |
| Long doth shee stay, as loath to leaue the land, | |
| From whose soft side she first did issue make: | |
| Shee tastes all places, turnes to euery hand, | 75 |
| Her flowrie bankes vnwilling to forsake; | |
| |
| Yet Nature so her streames doth leade and carry, | |
| As that her course doth make no finall stay, | |
| Till she herselfe vnto the ocean marry, | |
| Within whose watry bosome first she lay: | 80 |
| |
| Euen so the soule, which in this earthly mold | |
| The Spirit of God doth secretlie infuse, | |
| Because at first she doth the earth behould, | |
| And onely this materiall world she viewes; | |
| |
| At first our mother-earth shee holdeth dere, | 85 |
| And doth embrace the world and worldly things; | |
| Shee flyes close by the ground, and houers here, | |
| And mounts not vp with her celestiall wings: | |
| |
| Yet vnder heauen shee cannot light on ought | |
| That with her heauenly nature doth agree; | 90 |
| She cannot rest, she cannot fixe her thought, | |
| She cannot in this world contented bee. | |
| |
| For who did euer yet in honor, wealth, | |
| Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? | |
| Who euer ceasd to wish, when he had health? | 95 |
| Or hauing wisedome, was not vext in mind? | |
| |
| Then as a bee, which among weeds doth fall, | |
| Which seeme sweet floures, with lustre fresh and gay, | |
| She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all, | |
| But pleasd with none, doth rise and sore away: | 100 |
| |
| So, when the soule finds here no true content, | |
| And, like Noahs doue, can no sure footing take, | |
| She doth returne from whence she first was sent, | |
| And flyes to him that first her wings did make. | |
| |
| Wit, seeking truth, from cause to cause ascends, | 105 |
| And neuer rests, till it the first attaine: | |
| Will, seeking good, finds many middle ends, | |
| But neuer stayes, till it the last do gaine. | |
| |
| Now God the Truth, and first of Causes is; | |
| God is the last good end, which lasteth still; | 110 |
| Being Alpha and Omega namd for this, | |
| Alpha to wit, Omega to the will. | |
| |
| Sith then her heauenly kind shee doth bewray, | |
| In that to God she doth directly moue, | |
| And on no mortall thing can make her stay, | 115 |
| Shee cannot be from hence, but from aboue. | |
| |
| And yet this first true Cause, and last good End, | |
| She cannot heere so well and truly see: | |
| For this perfection she must yet attend, | |
| Till to her Maker shee espoused bee. | 120 |
| |
| As a Kings daughter, being in person sought | |
| Of diuerse princes, which doe neighbour neare, | |
| On none of them can fixe a constant thought, | |
| Though shee to all doe lend a gentle eare; | |
| |
| Yet can she loue a forraine Emperour, | 125 |
| Whom of great worth and powre she heares to be, | |
| If she be wood but by embassadour, | |
| Or but his letters, or his pictures see; | |
| |
| For well she knowes that when she shal be brought | |
| Into the kingdome where her Spouse doth raigne, | 130 |
| Her eyes shall see what shee conceiud in thought, | |
| Himselfe, his state, his glorie, and his traine: | |
| |
| So while the virgin Soule on earth doth stay, | |
| Shee wood and tempted is ten thousand wayes | |
| By these great powers, which on the earth beare sway, | 135 |
| The wisdome of the world, wealth, pleasure, praise: | |
| |
| With these sometime she doth her time beguile, | |
| These do by fits her phantasie possesse; | |
| But she distasts them all within a while, | |
| And in the sweetest finds a tediousnesse: | 140 |
| |
| But if vpon the worlds Almightie 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; | 145 |
| This hony tasted, still is euer sweete; | |
| The pleasure of her rauisht thought is such, | |
| As almost here she with her blisse doth meete. | |
| |
| But when in heauen she shall his Essence see, | |
| This is her soueraigne good and perfect blisse; | 150 |
| Her longings, wishings, hopes, all finisht bee, | |
| Her ioyes are full, her motions rest in this: | |
| |
| There is she crownd with garlands of content; | |
| There doth shee manna eate and nectar drinke; | |
| That presence doth such high delights present, | 155 |
| As neuer tongue could speake, nor hart could thinke. | |
| |
| For this, the better soules do oft despise | |
| The bodies death, and doe it oft desire; | |
| For when on ground the burthened ballance lyes, | |
| The emptie part is lifted vp the higher. | 160 |
| |
| But if the bodies 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 contrarie: | |
| |
| For all things else, which Nature makes to bee, | 165 |
| Their being to preserue are chiefly taught; | |
| And though some things desire a chaunge to see, | |
| Yet neuer thing did long to turne to nought. | |
| |
| If then by death the Soule were quenched quite, | |
| She could not thus against her nature runne, | 170 |
| Since euery senselesse thing, by Natures light, | |
| Doth presentation seeke, destruction shunne. | |
| |
| Nor could the worlds best spirits so much erre, | |
| If death tooke all, that they should all agree | |
| Before this life their honor to preferre; | 175 |
| For what is praise to things that nothing bee? | |
| |
| Againe, if by the bodies prop shee stand; | |
| If on the bodies life her life depend, | |
| As Meleagers on the fatall brand, | |
| The bodies good she onely would intend: | 180 |
| |
| We should not find her halfe 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 plentie, rest with ease. | |
| |
| Doubtlesse all soules haue a suruiuing thought; | 185 |
| Therefore of death we thinke with quiet mind: | |
| But if we thinke of being turnd to nought, | |
| A trembling horror in our soules we find. | |
| |
| And as the better spirit, when she doth beare | |
| A scorne of death, doth shew she cannot dye; | 190 |
| So when the wicked Soule deaths face doth feare, | |
| Euen then she proues her owne eternity. | |
| |
| For when Deaths forme appeares, she feareth not | |
| An vtter quenching or extinguishment; | |
| She would be glad to meete with such a lot, | 195 |
| That so shee might all future ill preuent. | |
| |
| But she doth doubt what after may befall; | |
| For Natures law accuseth her within, | |
| And saith, Tis true that is affirmd by all, | |
| That after death there is a paine for sinne. | 200 |
| |
| Then she which hath bene hudwinckt from her birth, | |
| Doth first herselfe within Deaths mirrour see; | |
| And when her bodie doth returne to earth, | |
| She first takes care how she alone shal be. | |
| |
| Who euer sees these irreligious men | 205 |
| With burthen of a sicknessse weake and faint, | |
| But heares them talking of religion then, | |
| And vowing of their soules to euery saint? | |
| |
| When was there euer cursed atheist brought | |
| Vnto the gibbet, but he did adore | 210 |
| That blessed Power, which he had set at nought, | |
| Scornd and blasphemed 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, sober, sad; | 215 |
| Then they discerne, and then they speake the truth. | |
| |
| If then all soules, both good and bad, do teach, | |
| With generall voyce, that soules can neuer dye; | |
| Tis not mans flattring glose, but Natures speach, | |
| Which, like Gods oracle, can neuer lye. | 220 |
| |
| Hence springs that vniuersal strong desire, | |
| Which all men haue, of Immortalitie: | |
| Not some few spirits vnto this thought aspire, | |
| But all mens minds in this vnited bee. | |
| |
| Then this desire of Nature is not vaine; | 225 |
| 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 studie springs, | |
| That launching and progression of the mind, | 230 |
| Which all men haue so much of future things, | |
| As they no joy 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 deedes; | 235 |
| 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 doe plant young trees, | |
| The fruit whereof another age shall take. | 240 |
| |
| If we these rules vnto ourselues apply, | |
| And view them by reflection of the mind, | |
| All these true notes of immortalitie | |
| In our hearts tables we shall written find. | |
| |
| And though some impious wits do questions moue, | 245 |
| And doubt if soules immortal be, or no; | |
| That doubt their immortalitie doth proue, | |
| Because they seeme immortal things to know. | |
| |
| For he which reasons on both parts doth bring, | |
| Doth some things mortal, some immortal call: | 250 |
| Now, if himselfe were but a mortall thing, | |
| He could not iudge immortall things at all. | |
| |
| For when we iudge, our minds wee mirrours make; | |
| And as those glasses which material bee, | |
| Formes of materiall things do onely take; | 255 |
| For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see; | |
| |
| So when wee God and angels do conceive, | |
| And think of truth, which is eternal too, | |
| Then doe our minds immortal forms receive, | |
| Which, if they mortal were, they could not doo. | 260 |
| |
| And as, if beasts conceived what reason were, | |
| And that conception should distinctly shew, | |
| They should the name of reasonable beare; | |
| For without reason none could reason know; | |
| |
| So when the Soule mounts with so high a wing, | 265 |
| As of eternal things she doubts can moue, | |
| She proofes of her eternity doth bring, | |
| Evn when she strives the contrary to prove. | |
| |
| For evn the thought of immortality, | |
| Being an act done without the bodies aid, | 270 |
| Shews that herself alone could moue and bee, | |
| Although the body in the graue were laid. | |