We that acquaint ourselves with every zone, We study speech, but others we persuade; Is it because the mind is like the eye, Through which it gathers knowledge by degrees; Whose rays reflect not, but spread outwardly; Not seeing itself, when other things it sees ? No, doubtless; for the mind can backward cast, But she is so corrupt, and so defac'd, As her own image doth herself affright. As is the fable of the lady fair, Which for her lust was turn'd into a cow; When thirsty, to a stream she did repair, And saw herself transform'd she wist not how; At first she startles, then she stands amaz'd; And shuns it still, although for thirst she die : Ev'n so man's soul, which did God's image bear, And was at first fair, good, and spotless pure; Since with her sins her beauties blotted were, Doth of all sights, her own sight least endure; For ev'n at first reflection she espies Such strange chimeras, and such monsters there; Such toys, such antics, and such vanities, As she retires and shrinks for shame and fear. And as the man loves least at home to be, That hath a sluttish house, haunted with sprites; So she, impatient her own faults to see, Turns from herself, and in strange things delights. For this, few know themselves, for merchants broke, As seas are troubled, when they do revoke And while the face of outward things we find, Yet if affliction once her wars begin, And threat the feebler sense with sword and fire, The mind contracts herself and shrinketh in, And to herself she gladly doth retire; As spiders touch'd seek their web's inmost part; As men seek towns, when foes the country burn. If aught can teach us aught, affliction's looks, This mistress lately pluck'd me by the ear, And many a golden lesson hath me taught; Hath made my senses quick, and reason clear, Reform'd my will, and rectified my thought. So do the winds and thunders cleanse the air; So working lees settle and purge the wine; So lopp'd and pruned trees do flourish fair; So doth the fire the drossy gold refine. Neither Minerva, nor the learned muse, She within lists my ranging mind hath brought, I know my body's of so frail a kind, As force without, fevers within can kill; I know the heavenly nature of my mind, But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will. I know my soul hath power to know all things, I know my life's a pain, and but a span; D THE DIGNITY OF MAN. OH! what is man, great Maker of mankind! Oh! what a lively life, what heav'nly pow'r, Dost thou within this dying flesh inspire! Thou leav'st thy print in other works of thine, Except, like thee, it should be infinite: But it exceeds man's thought, to think how high God hath rais'd man, since God a man be came; The angels do admire this mystery, And are astonish'd when they view the same: Nor hath he giv'n these blessings for a day, THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, PROVED BY SEVERAL REASONS. HER only end, is never-ending bliss; How senseless then, and dead a soul hath he, Which thinks his soul doth with his body die; Or thinks not so, but so would have it be, That he might sin with more security! For though these light and vicious persons say, Our soul is but a smoke, or airy blast, Which, during life, doth in her nostrils play, And when we die, doth turn to wind at last;" Although they say, "Come, let us eat and drink; Our life is but a spark, which quickly dies:" Though thus they say, they know not what to think, But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise. Therefore no heretics desire to spread Their light opinions, like these epicures; For so their stagg'ring thoughts are comforted, And other men's assent their doubt assures. Yet, tho' these men against their conscience strive, |