In fields their sullen conventicles found.[114]
These gross, half-animated, lumps I leave;
Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive.
But if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher
Than matter, put in motion, may aspire;
}
Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay; }
So drossy, so divisible are they, }
As would but serve pure bodies for allay; }
Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things