_Alterum, ut etiam caveamus, nè nimis superbè de nobis ipsis sentiamus.
Quod fieret non modò, si quos limites nobis nullâ cognitos ratione, nec
divinà revelatione, mundo vellemus affingere, tanquam si vis nostra
cogitationis, ultra id quod à Deo revera factum est ferri posset; sed
etiam maximè, si res omnes propter nos solos, ab illo creatas esse
fingeremus. =Renatus DesCartes in his Princip. Philosoph. the third
part.=_
THE ARGUMENT.
_’Gainst boundlesse time th’ objections made,
And wast infinity
Of worlds, are with new reasons weigh’d,
Mens judgements are left free._
1
Hence, hence unhallowed ears and hearts more hard
Then Winter clods fast froze with Northern wind.
But most of all, foul tongue I thee discard
That blamest all that thy dark strait’ned mind,
Can not conceive: But that no blame thou find;
What e’re my pregnant Muse brings forth to light,
She’l not acknowledge to be of her kind,
Till Eagle-like she turn them to the sight
Of the eternall Word all deckt with glory bright.
2
Strange sights do straggle in my restlesse thoughts,
And lively forms with orient colours clad
Walk in my boundlesse mind, as men ybrought
Into some spacious room, who when they’ve had
A turn or two, go out, although unbad.
All these I see and know, but entertain
None to my friend but who’s most sober sad;
Although the time my roof doth them contain
Their pretence doth possesse me till they out again.
3
And thus possest in silver trump I found
Their guise, their shape, their gesture and array.
But as in silver trumpet nought is found
When once the piercing sound is past away,
(Though while the mighty blast therein did stay,
Its tearing noise so terribly did shrill,
That it the heavens did shake, and earth dismay)
As empty I of what my flowing quill
In heedlesse hast elswhere, or here, may hap to spill.
4
For ’tis of force and not of a set will.
Ne dare my wary mind afford assent
To what is plac’d above all mortall skill.
But yet our various thoughts to represent
Each gentle wight will deem of good intent.
Wherefore with leave th’ infinitie I’ll sing
Of time, Of Space: or without leave; I’m brent
With eagre rage, my heart for joy doth spring,
And all my spirits move with pleasant trembeling.
5
An inward triumph doth my soul up-heave
And spread abroad through endlesse ’spersed aire.
My nimble mind this clammie clod doth leave,
And lightly stepping on from starre to starre
Swifter then lightning, passeth wide and farre,
Measuring th’ unbounded Heavens and wastfull skie;
Ne ought she finds her passage to debarre,
For still the azure Orb as she draws nigh
Gives back, new starres appear, the worlds walls ’fore her flie.
6