For all things else, which nature makes to be, If then by death the soul were quenched quite, Nor could the world's best spirits so much err, For what is praise to things that nothing be? Again, if by the body's prop she stand; As Meleager's on the fatal brand, The body's good she only would intend: We should not find her half so brave and bold, To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold, ease. Doubtless, all souls have a surviving thought, And as the better spirit, when she doth bear A scorn of death, doth show she cannot die; So when the wicked soul death's face doth fear, Even then she proves her own eternity. For when death's form appears, she feareth not But she doth doubt what after may befal; Then she who hath been hood-wink'd from her birth, Doth first herself within death's mirror see; And when her body doth return to earth, She first takes care, how she alone shall be. Who ever sees these irreligious men, With burden of a sickness weak and faint, But hears them talking of religion then, And vowing of their souls to ev'ry saint? When was there ever cursed atheist brought That blessed Pow'r, which he had set at naught, These light vain persons still are drunk and mad, If then all souls, both good and bad, do teach, With gen'ral voice, that souls can never die; 'Tis not man's flatt'ring gloss, but nature's speech, Which, like God's oracles, can never lie. Hence springs that universal strong desire, Not some few spirits unto this thought aspire, Then this desire of nature is not vain, Fond thoughts may fall into some idle brain, From hence that gen'ral care and study springs, That launching, and progression of the mind, Which all men have so much of future things, As they no joy do in the present find. From this desire, that main desire proceeds, Which all men have surviving fame to gain, By tombs, by books, by memorable deeds; For she that this desires, doth still remain. Hence, lastly, springs care of posterities, For things their kind would everlasting make: Hence is it, that old men do plant young trees, The fruit whereof another age shall take. If we these rules unto ourselves apply, In our heart's tables we shall written find. And tho' some impious wits do questions move, And doubt if souls immortal be, or no; That doubt their immortality doth prove, Because they seem immortal things to know. For he who reasons on both parts doth bring, Doth some things mortal, some immortal call; Now, if himself were but a mortal thing, He could not judge immortal things at all : For when we judge, our minds we mirrors make; Forms of material things do only take; So when we God and angels do conceive, And as if beasts conceiv'd what reason were, For without reason, none could reason know; So when the soul mounts with so high a wing, Ev'n when she strives the contrary to prove : For ev'n the thought of immortality, Being an act done without the body's aid, Shows, that herself alone could move and be, Although the body in the grave were laid. WORTH OF THE SOUL. O IGNORANT poor man! what dost thou bear, Look in thy soul, and thou shalt beauties find, Like those which drown'd Narcissus in the flood: Honour and pleasure both are in my mind, And all that in the world is counted good. Think of her worth; and think, that God did mean This worthy mind should worthy things embrace; Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts unclean, Nor her dishonour with thy passion base. Kill not her quick'ning power with surfeitings; Cast not her serious wit on idle things; And, when thou think'st of her eternity, Think not that death against our nature is; Think it a birth: and when thou go'st to die, Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to bliss. And thou, my soul, which turn'st with curious eye, To view the beams of thine own form divine, Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly, While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine. Take heed of over-weening, and compare Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's train : |