ch food, and I do
Want no content; I feed on manna too.
They have their tapers; I gaze without fear
On flying lamps and flaming comets here.
Their wanton flesh in silks and purple shrouds,
And fancy wraps me in a robe of clouds.
There some delicious beauty they may woo,
And I have Nature for my mistress too.
But these are mean; the archetype I can see,
And humbly touch the hem of majesty.
The power of my soul is such, I can
Expire, and so analyze all that's man.
First my dull clay I give unto the Earth,
Our common mother, which gives all their birth.
My growing faculties I send as soon,
Whence first I took them, to the humid moon.
All subtleties and every cunning art
To witty Mercury I do impart.
Those fond affections which made me a slave
To handsome faces, Venus, thou shalt have.
And saucy pride--if there was aught in me--
Sol, I return it to thy royalty.
My daring rashness and presumptions be
To Mars himself an equal legacy.
My ill-plac'd avarice--sure 'tis but small--
Jove, to thy flames I do bequeath it all.
And my false magic, which I did believe,
And mystic lies, to Saturn I do give.
My dark imaginations rest you there,
This is your grave and superstitious sphere.
Get up, my disentangled soul, thy fire
Is now refin'd, and nothing left to tire
Or clog thy wings. Now my auspicious flight
Hath brought me to the empyrean light.
I am a sep'rate essence, and can see
The emanations of the Deity,
And how they pass the seraphims, and run
Through ev'ry throne and domination.
So rushing through the guard the sacred streams
Flow to the neighbour stars, and in their beams
--A glorious cataract!--descend to earth,
And give impressions unto ev'ry birth.
With angels now and spirits I do dwell,
And here it is my nature to do well.
Thus, though my body you confined see,
My boundless thoughts have their ubiquity.
And shall I then forsake the stars and signs,
To dote upon thy dark and cursed mines?
Unhappy, sad exchange! what, must I buy
Guiana with the loss of all the sky?
Intelligences shall I leave, and be
Familiar only with mortality?
Must I know nought, but thy exchequer? shall
My purse and fancy be symmetrical?
Are there no objects left but one? must we
In gaining that, lose our variety?