Part 21 (2/2)

For shame desist, why shouldst thou seek my fall?

It cannot make thee more monarchical.

Leave off; thy empire is already built; To ruin me were to enlarge thy guilt, Not thy prerogative. I am not he Must be the measure to thy victory.

The Fates hatch more for thee; 'twere a disgrace If in thy annals I should make a clause.

The future ages will disclose such men Shall be the glory, and the end of them.

Nor do I flatter. So long as there be Descents in Nature, or posterity, There must be fortunes; whether they be good, As swimming in thy tide and plenteous flood, Or stuck fast in the shallow ebb, when we Miss to deserve thy gorgeous charity.

Thus, Fortune, the great world thy period is; Nature and you are parallels in this.

But thou wilt urge me still. Away, be gone, I am resolv'd, I will not be undone.

I scorn thy trash, and thee: nay, more, I do Despise myself, because thy subject too.

Name me heir to thy malice, and I'll be; Thy hate's the best inheritance for me.

I care not for your wondrous hat and purse, Make me a Fortunatus with thy curse.

How careful of myself then should I be, Were I neglected by the world and thee?

Why dost thou tempt me with thy dirty ore, And with thy riches make my soul so poor?

My fancy's pris'ner to thy gold and thee, Thy favours rob me of my liberty.

I'll to my speculations. Is't best To be confin'd to some dark, narrow chest And idolize thy stamps, when I may be Lord of all Nature, and not slave to thee?

The world's my palace. I'll contemplate there, And make my progress into ev'ry sphere.

The chambers of the air are mine; those three Well-furnish'd stories my possession be.

I hold them all _in capite_, and stand Propp'd by my fancy there. I scorn your land, It lies so far below me. Here I see How all the sacred stars do circle me.

Thou to the great giv'st rich 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 a.n.a.lyze 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 superst.i.tious 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 pa.s.s the seraphims, and run Through ev'ry throne and domination.

So rus.h.i.+ng 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?

<script>