Now his old friends, the herd of deer, he tries,
Hopes in their number he unknown may 'scape;
But they, his former fame forgot and gone,
Their adoration once, and fear,

With threat'ning horns forbid him to draw near.
Now to the civilised plain

His wandering course doth rove;

But all alike do treacherous prove;

Death in each different place is bred,

Swift as his course it flies, and hovers o'er his head.
At last decreasing strength to rage doth grow,
Courage from his despair doth rise,

And swell'd with fury, he doth wish for now
Th' approach of his insulting enemies :

Standing at bay, his much-sought life he guards,
And's foremost eager foes with death rewards:

Till tir'd with slaughter'd crouds, sunk with their weight,
Yielding to inexorable fate,

In comely state he dies,

Incircled round with heaps of enemies.

64.

Thro' numerous stately rooms we past,
And each so beauteous did appear,
Such deep amazement on the soul did cast,
'Twas thought none other could like that be fair :
Till the next did with equal worth surprise,

As full of wonders and entrancing rarities.

Each did the soul with admiration fill,

And e're the heighten'd spirits had leave to fall,
New wonders from new objects did distil,
All beauteous, and inflaming beauties all.
So a poor anchoret, that his days hath spent
In the recluses of a lonely cave,

That never knew what pride or riches meant ;
But th' earth his food, his drink a fountain gave:
As he, by angels borne above,

Thro' all the glorious orbs doth move,
With the astonishing glory rent,

His wide distended soul doth fly,

And break in admiration, love, and joy.
Of such sights sure 'tis holy men rehearse,
When their prophetick spirits borne above,
Of saints and angels; how they did converse
With seraphims and all the choir of love.

Such did th' inspir'd apostle find,

When he among the orbs was caught:
Visions above a mortal's thought,

Too bright for human eyes, and high for earthly mind.

65.

Distracted with the sight,

With numberless variety

That made a confus'd light;

As crouds of stars do make the galaxy.
What words cry'd I, bless'd muse, are fit?

(If any can describe an infinite)

What new-found eloquence is requisite ?
Since art and learning is too poor,

Nor can in all its boundless store;

Its curious wardrobe, whence are brought,
In wond'rous hieroglyphick letters wrought,

The garbs that do all objects fit, and every wand'ring thought.
Not art with all's improved skill can spin
Expressions fit to cloath these wonders in.

Admire and silent be,

The prudent muse reply'd,

Attempt no impossibility.

Not all my sisters skill the task could do,
In that untrodden path could go,
Not tho' Apollo's self should be the guide.

66.

This said, up to the roof my guide me led,
And with bold feet its lofty top we tread:
While divine ardor in our souls was bred,
And breathings of celestial influence fir'd;
The soul, with neighbourhood of heaven inspir'd,
Restless it scarcely in our breasts would stay,
But fain would journey that short way,
To the bless'd coasts of everlasting day.
Divine ideas from th' pure æther rise

So pure, untainted, and so high,
An angel would not blush to own them his.
Another soul seem'd in our breast to move,
A ray from the bright sun of light and love.
If souls, as learned men suppose,
When from the bodies fetters loose:
Tainted with matter that they hugg'd below;
Unfit as yet to heaven to fly,

In higher regions of the air do stay,
And purge their dross and earthy parts away;
Thence to some neighbour star ascend;
And still, as pure they do grow,

To higher orbs of light their course do bend;
Till they, like fire, unbound, active, and free,
With winged speed do rise

Sublim'd and fitly purify'd to reach the skies.
The blessed souls, that here their dwelling make,
Need not such tedious gradations take;

Unsullied with the mists that fall below,
From their pure air they may untainted go:
With highest rank of angels stay,

And be no more ally'd to earth than they.

67.

From hence, with secret pride,

Our eyes o'er all the humble vale did glide.

Now on the paradise below

Our pleased eyes do dwell:

The hanging gardens, that do show

Those joys, soft Greece and Rome's delights excell,
And all luxurious Babylon did know.

Sometimes on the rude mountains tops we rove,
The scene of innocence and untaught love,
Whose brows with wild inhabitants abound,
Under whose shades, their heads with ivy bound,
Pan and his hairy Sylvans dance the round.
Straight when we turn our eye,
The cultivated vale new sweets displays,
Its head with corn and flow'ry meads arrays,
Th' effects of toil and artful industry.
The one doth nature's naked form impart,
The other doth express't improv'd by art.
Hence the bold eye doth distant countries trace ;
With daring unconfined race,

Contracts the way, and visits every place:

Until at last

(Objects still lessening as they're farther plac'd)

Towns springing up in crowds,

Appearing from afar,

On some far distant coast,
Its bold and daring flight
Is with a pleasing error lost,
In mists, and bluish clouds,
On hills that such appear,

Where the descending heaven on earth doth seem to light.

68.

Phæbus, god of heavenly fire,
Father of the tuneful lyre;
God of light, and god of wit,
Head of the inspired quire:

Say if in all thy glorious way,

(And round the world thou circlest every day)
In all the journies thou dost go,

A seat like this thy unwearied course doth know.
Where, all that constituteth fair and great,
Order, conveniency, and state :

All the world's scatter'd excellencies greet,
And all the different lines as in a center meet.
VOL. VIII.

U

And, when thou dost confess the world too poor,
I dare thy wit's unbounded store,
The room of bankrupt nature to supply,
And fancied worth to make, as rich and high,
As thy eternal mind can fly

That gilds with everlasting rays the highest sky.
Then, god of wit, how wilt thou find
Thy proudest flights left far behind,
And of Belvoir unworthy be?

All wonders past, or present times can tell,
Bless'd place in thee do lie:

And thou art left of all the world the only miracle.

A JUST VINDICATION OF LEARNING:

OR, AN HUMBLE ADDRESS TO THE

HIGH COURT OF PARLIAMENT, IN BEHALF OF THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS.

BY PHILOPATRIS.

Sub bono principe sentire licet quæ velis, & quæ sentias dicere.
London, 1679. Quarto, containing twenty-four Pages.

PROEM.

May it please you, my LORDS and GENTLEMEN,

This session of parliament is of such high importance to these parts of the world, that heaven seems to have committed the universal fate of Christendom to your disposal: from whose proceedings both France, Spain, Germany, Holland, and this part of the universe must take their measures: Nor will it be a vanity in me to affirm the same thing of you, which heretofore Tacitus did of the Batavi; who, ⚫ in the time of the Romans, saith he, were able to confer a victory upon whatever party they adhered to.'

The parliaments of England have ever been formidable to their neighbours, but you, above all others, seem to have been reserved by Providence for those great and weighty affairs, which are now in agitation, as well at home as abroad, and for which purpose you are here convened. You only are able to cast out that angel of darkness, with his many legions, who is at this time endeavouring to destroy our best of kings and governments; you only are able to center this reeling kingdom, which staggers and groans under the pleurisy of popery, and which, if not now prevented, may in time attaint and corrupt the whole mass of English blood; you only are able to preserve that so necessary religion, and sacred property of our British Isle, by continuing, as there now is, a protestant head upon a protestant body; without which our prince would be no other than a father-in-law to his people, and they sons-in-law to him; besides, the incoherence would be as great and disagreeable, as to behold a black Indian head annexed unto a white body. Neither would such a conjunction be more unnatural, than inconvenient, since he that is arbitrary over the soul (as in popery) hath ever a co-equal power over the body and the estate; which is evident from the examples of France, Spain, and other popish governments, where the priest rides the soul, and the prince the body; a tyranny as

disagreeable to our gracious sovereign's nature to impose upon us, as it would be insupportable for our English spirits to bear.

Now the original of these popish villaines, as I humbly conceive, proceeds not more from their sacerdotal malice and interest, than from their laiks ignorance and servitude; without which their clergy would, at the best, be rendered but like wolves without teeth. Wherefore, to divest their priests of this power of doing ill, nothing would be more conducive, than the propagating of wisdom and knowledge amongst the populace; since, as ignorance renders men obedient and susceptible of the meanest slavery, so doth its contrary put all men upon their guard: Omnes enim nos sumus, aut corvi qui lacerant, aut cadavera quæ lacerantur. Now, for the more speedy effecting hereof, there hath never been discovered any better expedient amongst men, than that of the Liberty of the Press; whereby whoever opposes the publick interest are exposed and rendered odious to the people, as, on the contrary, they, who merit well of their country, are ever recorded with immortal honour to posterity. So that, if fame and ambition, as all generous souls must acknowledge, have so great an influence over the minds of active men, what can be more reasonable, what can be more serviceable to the world, than that which hurries men into a necessity either of acting virtuously, or of forfeiting their so much desired honour for ever? And such I take to be the consequence of a Free Press: From which consideration, since the late act, which laid that severe restraint upon printing, is so near expiring, my humble address to your lordships, and to you, gentlemen of the house of commons, is, that, before you proceed to the continuation of any thing of that nature, you would condescend so far, as to look down upon these ensuing arguments against any such inquisition, or embargo upon science; wherein you may, haply, find some reasons, which, though not founded upon private ends, like those of our adversaries, may yet prove sufficiently satisfactory to all but that dead weight of interest which opposes us, and will not be converted, for that it is not for its interest so to be.

This, my lords and gentlemen, is all from him, who would sacrifice his life and fortune for his king and country, coveting no other title of honour, whereby to be distinguished, than that of

PHILOPATRIS.

AL

LL civilised people, as well ancient as modern, have ever had that veneration and deference for learning, that almost no nation, disengaged from barbarism, wants its publick donations either of magnificent structures, or plentiful revenues for the encouragement of literature and learned men. Such patrons and admirers of learning were the heroes of old, that they seem to contend about nothing more, than to excel in their liberality to the muses. Thus we see Alexander the Great* presented Aristotle with eight-hundred talents, as also Xenocrates, the philosopher, with fifty talents; Antiochus likewise presented his physician, Theombrotus, with sixty-thousand crowns; Homer for his works received a thousand pieces of silver from the Candiots; nor did that suffice, but cities must fall together by the ears for the honour of his birth: So liberal were the ancients to all manner of sciences; nor have our modern benefactors been inferior to them, as our two famous universities may testify to posterity. Yet, notwithstanding all these encouragements, learning hath of late years met with an obstruction in many places, which suppresses it from flourishing or increasing, in spight of all its other helps; and that is, the inquisition upon the press, which prohibits any book from coming forth without an imprimatur; an old relique of popery, only necessary for the con

Plut. Vita Alex.