What fix'd affections, and lov'd laws
—Which are the hid, magnetic cause—
Wise Nature governs with, and by
What fast, inviolable tie
The whole creation to her ends
For ever provident she bends:
All this I purpose to rehearse
In the sweet airs of solemn verse.
Although the Libyan lions should
Be bound in chains of purest gold,
And duly fed were taught to know
Their keeper's voice, and fear his blow:
Yet, if they chance to taste of blood,
Their rage which slept, stirr'd by that food
In furious roaring will awake,
And fiercely for their freedom make.
No chains nor bars their fury brooks,
But with enrag'd and bloody looks
They will break through, and dull'd with fear
Their keeper all to pieces tear.
The bird, which on the wood's tall boughs
Sings sweetly, if you cage or house,
And out of kindest care should think
To give her honey with her drink,
And get her store of pleasant meat,
Ev'n such as she delights to eat:
Yet, if from her close prison she
The shady groves doth chance to see,
Straightway she loathes her pleasant food,
And with sad looks longs for the wood.
The wood, the wood alone she loves!
And towards it she looks and moves:
And in sweet notes—though distant from—
Sings to her first and happy home!
That plant, which of itself doth grow
Upwards, if forc'd, will downwards bow;
But give it freedom, and it will
Get up, and grow erectly still.
The sun, which by his prone descent
Seems westward in the evening bent,
Doth nightly by an unseen way
Haste to the East, and bring up day.
Thus all things long for their first state,
And gladly to't return, though late.
Nor is there here to anything
A course allow'd, but in a ring:
Which, where it first began, must end,
And to that point directly tend.
LIB. IV. METRUM VI.
Who would unclouded see the laws
Of the supreme, eternal Cause,
Let him with careful thoughts and eyes
Observe the high and spacious skies.
There in one league of love the stars
Keep their old peace, and show our wars.
The sun, though flaming still and hot,
The cold, pale moon annoyeth not.
Arcturus with his sons—though they
See other stars go a far way,
And out of sight—yet still are found
Near the North Pole, their noted bound.
Bright Hesper—at set times—delights
To usher in the dusky nights:
And in the East again attends
To warn us, when the day ascends.
So alternate Love supplies
Eternal courses still, and vies
Mutual kindness; that no jars
Nor discord can disturb the stars.
The same sweet concord here below
Makes the fierce elements to flow
And circle without quarrel still,
Though temper'd diversely; thus will
The hot assist the cold; the dry
Is a friend to humidity:
And by the law of kindness they
The like relief to them repay.
The fire, which active is and bright,
Tends upward, and from thence gives light.
The earth allows it all that space
And makes choice of the lower place;
For things of weight haste to the centre,
A fall to them is no adventure.
From these kind turns and circulation
Seasons proceed, and generation.
This makes the Spring to yield us flow'rs,
And melts the clouds to gentle show'rs.
The Summer thus matures all seeds
And ripens both the corn and weeds.
This brings on Autumn, which recruits
Our old, spent store, with new fresh fruits.
And the cold Winter's blust'ring season
Hath snow and storms for the same reason.
This temper and wise mixture breed
And bring forth ev'ry living seed.
And when their strength and substance spend
—For while they live, they drive and tend
Still to a change—it takes them hence
And shifts their dress! and to our sense
Their course is over, as their birth:
And hid from us they turn to earth.
But all this while the Prince of life
Sits without loss, or change, or strife:
Holding the reins, by which all move
—And those His wisdom, power, love
And justice are—and still what He
The first life bids, that needs must be,
And live on for a time; that done
He calls it back, merely to shun
The mischief, which His creature might
Run into by a further flight.
For if this dear and tender sense
Of His preventing providence,
Did not restrain and call things back,
Both heav'n and earth would go to rack,
And from their great Preserver part;
As blood let out forsakes the heart
And perisheth, but what returns
With fresh and brighter spirits burns.
This is the cause why ev'ry living
Creature affects an endless being.
A grain of this bright love each thing
Had giv'n at first by their great King;
And still they creep—drawn on by this—
And look back towards their first bliss.
For, otherwise, it is most sure,
Nothing that liveth could endure:
Unless its love turn'd retrograde
Sought that First Life, which all things made.
LIB. IV. METRUM III.
If old tradition hath not fail'd,
Ulysses, when from Troy he sail'd
Was by a tempest forc'd to land
Where beauteous Circe did command.
Circe, the daughter of the sun,
Which had with charms and herbs undone
Many poor strangers, and could then
Turn into beasts the bravest men.
Such magic in her potions lay,
That whosoever passed that way
And drank, his shape was quickly lost.
Some into swine she turn'd, but most
To lions arm'd with teeth and claws;
Others like wolves with open jaws
Did howl; but some—more savage—took
The tiger's dreadful shape and look.
But wise Ulysses, by the aid
Of Hermes, had to him convey'd
A flow'r, whose virtue did suppress
The force of charms, and their success:
While his mates drank so deep, that they
Were turn'd to swine, which fed all day
On mast, and human food had left,
Of shape and voice at once bereft;
Only the mind—above all charms—
Unchang'd did mourn those monstrous harms.
O, worthless herbs, and weaker arts,
To change their limbs, but not their hearts!
Man's life and vigour keep within,
Lodg'd in the centre, not the skin.
Those piercing charms and poisons, which
His inward parts taint and bewitch,
More fatal are, than such, which can
Outwardly only spoil the man.
Those change his shape and make it foul,
But these deform and kill his soul.