Then is the soul from God; so Pagans say,

Which saw by Nature's light her heav'nly kind; Naming her kin to God, and God's bright ray, A citizen of Heav'n, to Earth confin'd.

He looks on Adam as a root or well;
And on his heirs as branches, and as streams:
He sees all men as one man, though they dwell
In sundry cities, and in sundry realms.

And as the root and branch are but one tree, And well and stream do but one river make; So, if the root and well corrupted be,

For from him, by him, through him, all things be; His sight is not discoursive, by degrees;

But seeing th' whole, each single part doth see.

The stream and branch the same corruption take.

So, when the root and fountain of mankind
Did draw corruption, and God's curse, by sin;
This was a charge, that all bis heirs did bind,
And all his offspring grew corrupt therein.

And as when th' hand doth strike, the man offends,
(For part from whole, law severs not in this)
So Adam's sin to the whole kind extends;
For all their natures are but part of his.

Therefore this sin of kind, not personal,
But real and hereditary was;
The guilt thereof, and punishment to all,
By course of nature and of law doth pass.

For as that easy law was giv'n to all,

To ancestor and heir, to first and last; So was the first transgression general;

And all did pluck the fruit, and all did taste.

Of this we find some footsteps in our law,
Which doth her root from God and Nature take;
Ten thousand men she doth together draw,
And of them all one corporation make:

Yet these, and their successors, are but one; And if they gain or lose their liberties, They harm or profit not themselves alone,

But such as in succeeding times shall rise.

And so the ancestor, and all his heirs,

Though they in number pass the stars of Heav'n, Are still but one; his forfeitures are theirs, And unto them are his advancements giv'n:

His civil acts do bind and bar them all;
And as from Adam all corruption take,
So, if the father's crime be capital,
In all the blood, law doth corruption make,

Is it then just with us, to disinherit

Th' unborn nephews, for the father's fault; And to advance again, for one man's merit, A thousand heirs that have deserved nought?

And is not God's decree as just as ours,

If he, for Adam's sin, his sons deprive Of all those native virtues, and those pow'rs, Which he to him and to his race did give?

For what is this contagious sin of kind,

But a privation of that grace within, And of that great rich dowry of the mind, Which all had had, but for the first man's sin?

If then a man on light conditions gain
A great estate, to him and his, for ever;

If wilfully he forfeit it again,

Who doth bemoan his heir or blame the giver?

So, though God make the soul good, rich, and fair,
Yet when her form is to the body knit,
Which makes the man, which man is Adam's heir,
Justly forthwith he takes his grace from it:

And then the soul, being first from nothing brought, When God's grace fails her, doth to nothing fall;'

And this declining proneness unto nought,
Is e'en that sin that we are born withal.

Yet not alone the first good qualities,
Which in the first soul were, deprived are;
But in their place the contrary do rise,

And real spots of sin her beauty mar,

Nor is it strange, that Adam's ill desert

Should be transferr'd unto his guilty race, When Christ his grace and justice doth impart To men unjust, and such as have no grace.

Lastly, the soul were better so to be

Born slave to sin, than not to be at all; Since (if she do believe) one sets her free,

That makes her mount the higher for her fall.

Yet this the curious wits will not content;

They yet will know (since God foresaw this ill) Why his high providence did not prevent

The declination of the first man's will.

If by his word he had the current stay'd
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.

And why did God in man this soul infuse,

But that he should his Maker know and love? Now, if love be compell'd, and cannot choose, How can it grateful or thank-worthy prove?

Love must free-hearted be, and voluntary;
And not enchanted, or by fate constrain'd:
Nor like that love, which did Ulysses carry
To Circe's isle, with mighty charms enchain'd.

Besides, were we unchangeable in will,

And of a wit that nothing could misdeem; Equal to God, whose wisdom shineth still, And never errs we might ourselves esteem.

So that if man would be unvariable,

He must be God, or like a rock or tree; For e'en the perfect angels were not stable, But had a fall more desperate than we.

Then let us praise that pow'r, which makes us be
Men as we are, and rest contented so;
And, knowing man's fall was curiosity,
Admire God's counsels, which we cannot know.

And let us know that God the maker is

Of all the souls, in all the men that be; Yet their corruption is no fault of his,

But the first man's that broke God's first decree.

SECTION IX.

WHY THE SOUL IS UNITED TO THE BODY.

THIS substance, and this spirit of God's own making,
Is in the body plac'd, and planted here,
"That both of God, and of the world partaking,
Of all that is, man might the image bear."

God first made angels bodiless, pure minds;
Then other things, which mindless bodies be;
Last, he made man, th' horizon 'twixt both kinds,
In whom we do the world's abridgment see.

Besides, this world below did need one wight, Which might thereof distinguish ev'ry part; Make use thereof, and take therein delight; And order things with industry and art:

Which also God might in his works admire,
And here beneath yield him both pray'r and praise;
As there, above, the holy angels choir
Doth spread his glory forth with spiritual lays.

Lastly, the brute, unreasonable wights,

Did want a visible king, o'er them to reign: And God himself thus to the world unites, That so the world might endless bliss obtain.

SECTION X

IN WHAT MANNER THE SOUL is UNITED TO THE BODY. BUT how shall we this union well express?

Naught ties the soul, her subtlety is such; She moves the body, which she doth possess ; Yet no part toucheth, but by virtue's touch. Then dwells she not therein, as in a tent; Nor as a pilot in his ship doth sit; Nor as the spider in his web is pent; Nor as the wax retains the print in it;

Nor as a vessel water doth contain;

Nor as one liquor in another shed;
Nor as the heat doth in the fire remain;
Nor as a voice throughout the air is spread :

But as the fair and cheerful morning light
Doth here and there her silver-beams impart,
And in an instant doth herself unite

To the transparent air, in all and ev'ry part: Still resting whole, when blows the air divide; Abiding pure, when th' air is most corrupted; Throughout the air, her beams dispersing wide; And when the air is toss'd, not interrupted:

So doth the piercing soul the body fill,

Being all in all, and all in part diffus'd; Indivisible, incorruptible still;

Nor forc'd, encounter'd, troubled, or confus'd.

And as the Sun above the light doth bring,
Though we behold it in the air below;
So from the eternal light the soul doth spring,
Though in the body she her pow'rs do show.

This pow'r, in parts made fit, fit objects takes;
Yet not the things, but forms of things receives;
As when a seal in wax impression makes,

The print therein, but not itself, it leaves.

And though things sensible be numberless,
But only five the sense's organs be;
And in those ve, all things their forms express,
Which we can touch, taste, feel, or hear, or see.

These are the windows, through the which she views The light of knowledge, which is life's load-star: "And yet while she these spectacles doth use,

Oft worldly things seem greater than they are."

SECTION XV.

HEARING.

Now let us hear how she the ears employs : Their office is, the troubled air to take; Which in their mazes forms a sound or noise, Whereof herself doth true distinction make.

These wickets of the soul are plac'd on high,
Because all sounds do lightly mount aloft;
And that they may not pierce too violently,
They are delay'd with turns and windings oft.

For should the voice directly strike the brain,
It would astonish and confuse it much;
Therefore these plaits and folds the sound restrain,
That it the organ may more gently touch.

As streams, which with their winding banks do play,
Stopp'd by their creeks, run softly through the
So in th' ear's labyrinth the voice doth stray, [plain:
And doth with easy motion touch the brain.

This ledger-book lies in the brain behind,
Like Janus' eye, which in his poll was set :
The layman's tables, storehouse of the mind;
Which doth remember much, and much forget.

Here sense's apprehension end doth take;
As when a stone is into water cast,
One circle doth another circle make,

Till the last circle touch the bank at last.

SECTION XXIV.

THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF THE SOUL.

BUT now I have a will, yet want a wit,

T'express the working of the wit and will; Which, though their root be to the body knit,

Use not the body, when they use their skill.

These pow'rs the nature of the soul declare,
For to man's soul these only proper be;
For on the Earth no other wights there are
That have these heavenly powers, but only we.

SECTION XXII.

THE PASSION OF THE SENSE.

BUT though the apprehensive pow'r do pause,
The motive virtue then begins to move;
Which in the heart below doth passions cause,
Joy, grief, and fear, and hope, and hate, and love.

These passions have a free commanding might,
And divers actions in our life do breed;
For all acts done without true reason's light,
Do from the passion of the sense proceed.

But since the brain doth lodge the pow'rs of sense,
How makes it in the heart those passions spring?

The mutual love, the kind intelligence

'Twixt heart and brain, this sympathy doth bring.

From the kind heat, which in the heart doth reign,
The spirits of life do their beginning take;
These spirits of life ascending to the brain, [make.
When they come there, the spirits of sense do

These spirits of sense, in fantasy's high court, Judge of the forms of objects, ill or well; And so they send a good or ill report

Down to the heart, where all affections dwell.

If the report be good, it causeth love,

And longing hope, and well assured joy:

If it be ill, then doth it hatred move,

And trembling fear, and vexing griefs annoy.

Yet were these natural affections good,

If reason in her first perfection stood,

That she might Nature's passions rectify.

SECTION XXIII.

LOCAL MOTION.

BESIDES, another motive-power doth 'rise

Out of the heart, from whose pure blood do spring The vital spirits; which, born in arteries, Continual motion to all parts do bring.

This makes the pulses beat, and lungs respire;
This holds the sinews like a bridle's reins;
And makes the body to advance, retire,
To turn, or stop, as she them slacks or strains.

Thus the soul tunes the body's instruments,

These harmonies she makes with life and sense; The organs fit are by the body lent,

But th' actions flow from the soul's influence.

So many reasons understanding gain; And many understandings, knowledge bring, And by much knowledge, wisdom we obtain.

So, many stairs we must ascend upright

Ere we attain to wisdom's high degree: So doth this Earth eclipse our reason's light, Which else (in instants) would like angels see.

SECTION XXVI.

INNATE IDEAS IN THE SOUL.

YET hath the soul a dowry natural,

And sparks of light, some common things to see; Not being a blank where naught is writ at all, But what the writer will, may written be.

For Nature in man's heart her laws doth pen, Prescribing truth to wit, and good to will; Which do accuse, or else excuse all men,

For ev'ry thought or practice, good or ill: