Thou, like the sun, dost, with an equal ray, Into the palace and the cottage shine; And show'st the soul both to the clerk and lay, _learned and By the clear lamp of th' oracle divine. [unlearned_ He is puzzled enough to get the theology of his time into harmony with his philosophy, and I cannot say that he is always triumphant in the attempt; but here at least is good argument in justification of the freedom of man to sin. If by His word he had the current stayed Of Adam's will, which was by nature free, It had been one as if his word had said, "I will henceforth that Man no Man shall be." * * * * * For what is Man without a moving mind, Which hath a judging wit, and choosing will? Now, if God's pow'r should her election bind, Her motions then would cease, and stand all still. * * * * * So that if Man would be unvariable, He must be God, or like a rock or tree; For ev'n the perfect angels were not stable, But had a fall more desperate than we. The poem contains much excellent argument in mental science as well as in religion and metaphysics; but with that department I have nothing to do. I shall now give an outlook from the highest peak of the poem--to any who are willing to take the trouble necessary for seeing what another would show them. The section from which I have gathered the following stanzas is devoted to the more immediate proof of the soul's immortality. Her only end is never-ending bliss, Which is the eternal face of God to see, Who last of ends and first of causes is; And to do this, she must eternal be. Again, how can she but immortal be, When with the motions of both will and wit, She still aspireth to eternity, And never rests till she attains to it? Water in conduit-pipes can rise no higher Than the well-head from whence it first doth spring; Then since to eternal God she doth aspire, She cannot but be an eternal thing. At first her mother-earth she holdeth dear, And doth embrace the world and worldly things; She flies close by the ground, and hovers here, And mounts not up with her celestial wings. Yet under heaven she cannot light on ought That with her heavenly nature doth agree She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought, She cannot in this world contented be. For who did ever yet, in honour, wealth, Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? Whoever ceased to wish, when he had health Or having wisdom, was not vexed in mind Then as a bee, which among weeds doth fall, Which seem sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay-- She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all, But, pleased with none, doth rise, and soar away;