her praise, Hymns to Astrea." In 1601 he was reconciled to Martin, re-admitted to his position at the Bar and his seniority, and became a member of Elizabeth's last Parliament. After Elizabeth's death, when Davies was among those who went forward to meet James, the King, on hearing his name, asked whether he was "Nosce Teipsum," and being told that he was, graciously embraced him. In the same year Davies became Attorney-General for Ireland; but he was not knighted until February, 1607. Worthy of the author of "Nosce Teipsum' was his work for Ireland, of which there is a valuable record in prose tracts of his. He lived during the whole reign of James I., and died in Bacon's death year, 1626. stanza of Sir John Davies's "Nosce Teipsum" was adopted by Sir William Davenant in his "Gondibert," published in 1651, and recommended by him to the post of English heroic measure. Dryden followed the suggestion in his "Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Cromwell," and in his "Annus Mirabilis," published in 1667, though the French heroic couplet was then The making way. But in that year "Paradise Lost" appeared, and it was in blank verse. The author of "Nosce Teipsum " begins by asking why he was sent to the schools, since the desire of knowledge first corrupted man in Paradise. Our first parents desired knowledge of evil as well as of good, but they could know evil only by doing it. With knowledge of evil came a dimmer sight for good. Reason grew dark, and they were bats who had been eagles. But what do we, when with fond fruitless curiosity we seek in profane books for hidden knowledge? We seek an empty gain, and with cloud of error on the windows of our mind we look in vain to recall the knowledge that before the Fall was ours by grace. "So might the heir, whose father hath in play Wasted a thousand pounds of ancient rent, By painful earning of one groat a day Hope to restore the patrimony spent. "The wits that div'd most deep and soar'd most high, Seeking man's powers, have found his weakness such: Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth fly; We learn so little, and forget so much. "For this the wisest of all mortal men Said, he knew nought, but that he nought did know; And the great mocking master mock'd not then, When he said, truth was buried here below. "For how may we to other things attain, When none of us his own soul understands? For which the devil mocks our curious brain When Know Thyself his oracle commands. "For why should we the busy Soul believe, When boldly she concludes of that and this; When of herself she can no judgment give, Nor how, nor whence, nor where, nor what she is? 1 Some are quoted in the volume of this Library containing "Shorter English Poems," pages 259, 260. "All things without, which round about we se We seek to know, and have therewith to do: But that whereby we reason, live and be, Within ourselves, we strangers are thereto." Why does our study turn so little inward? Perhaps because reflection of ourselves shows to man's soul painfully the lower shape it wears. The man lives least at home "that hath a sluttish house, haunted with sprites." The broken merchant looks at his estate with discontent and pain. Yet trouble drives a man to look within himself. Trouble and disgrace had forced Davies to self-contemplation, "As spiders touch'd, seek their webs' inmost part; "If aught can teach us aught, Affliction's looks (Making us pry into ourselves so near) Teach us to know ourselves, beyond all books, Or all the learnéd schools that ever were. "This mistress lately pluck'd me by the ear, And many a golden lesson hath me taught; Hath made my senses quick, and reason clear, Reform'd my will, and rectified my thought. "So do the winds and thunders cleanse the air; So working seas settle and purge the wine; So lopp'd and prunéd trees do flourish fair; So doth the fire the drossy gold refine. "Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse, Nor rules of art, nor precepts of the wise, Could in my brain those beams of skill infuse, As but the glance of this Dame's angry eyes. "She within lists my ranging mind hath brought, That now beyond myself I list not go; Myself am centre of my circling thought, Only myself I study, learn, and know. "I know my Body's of so frail a kind, As force without, fevers within can kill: I know the heavenly nature of my mind, But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will: "I know my Soul hath power to know all things, Yet is she blind and ignorant in all : I know I'm one of nature's little kings, "I know my life's a pain, and but a span; I know my sense is mock'd with ev'ry thing: And, to conclude, I know myself a Man, Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.” So ends the introduction, and the poem then opens with the thought that into their world sun and moon and stars, eyes of the world, look down; while the eyes, lights of the world of man, have no power to look within. But He who gave eyes to man gave also an inward light whereby to see the true form of the Soul within. "None are so gross, as to contend for this, That Souls from bodies may traducéd be; Between whose natures no proportion is, When root and branch in nature still agree. "But many subtile wits have justified, That Souls from Souls spiritually may spring; Which (if the nature of the Soul be tried) Will even in nature prove as gross a thing." Reasons against this opinion he draws first from nature. All things are made of nothing or of stuff already formed. There is no stuff or matter in the Soul, she must be created out of nothing, "and to create to God alone pertains." After more reasons drawn from nature, follow others from divinity, which treat of Adam's fall, foreknowledge, freewill, and the grace of God. The next topic is the reason of the union of Soul with Body— "That both of God and of the world partaking, Of all that is, man might the image bear." There was need of a creature to knit into worship the enjoyment of this lower creation, to rule over it, and unite the world to God. How, it is next asked, are Soul and Body joined? "But how shall we this union well express? Nought ties the Soul, her subtilty 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 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 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 tost, not interrupted: "So doth the piercing Soul the Body fill, Being all in all, and all in part diffused; Indivisible, uncorruptible still; Not forced, encountered, troubled, or confused. "And as the Sun Above the light doth bring, But the operations of the Soul are diverse as the operations of the sun and its visible effects, in dif- | ference of season, daylight, climate, form of man; she also has a quickening power, and a power also that she sends abroad, her sense, which through five organs "views and searcheth all things everywhere." The poem dwells on the eyes, guides to the body here "which else would stumble in eternal night," "Yet their best object, and their noblest use, It dwells on the other gates of sense by which outward things enter the Soul,-hearing, taste, smelling, feeling, and the common sense by which their several perceptions were brought together for transmission to the brain. Fancy and memory, the passions and affections of the soul are then passed in review; and after them the intellectual powers, wit, reason, understanding, opinion, judgment, and, through knowledge brought by understanding, at last wisdom. The poet then ascribes to the Soul innate ideas, "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 every thought or practice, good or ill." He sings next of the Soul's power of will, and of the relations between wit and will; of the intellectual memory surviving after death of the body; and of the mutual dependence of all powers of the Soul. "Our wit is given Almighty God to know; Our will is given to love Him, being known: But God could not be known to us below But by His works, which through the sense are shown. "And as the wit doth reap the fruits of sense, So doth the quick'ning power the senses feed: Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispense, The best the service of the least doth need. "Oh! what is man, great Maker of mankind! That Thou to him so great respect dost bear! That Thou adorn'st him with so bright a mind, Mak'st him a king, and even an angel's peer! "O what a lively life, what heav'nly power, What spreading virtue, what a sparkling fire, How great, how plentiful, how rich a dower Dost Thou within this dying flesh inspire! "Thou leav'st Thy print in other works of Thine, But Thy whole image Thou in man hast writ: There cannot be a creature more divine, Except like Thee it should be infinite. "But it exceeds man's thought, to think how high God hath raised man, since God a man became : The angels do admire this mystery, And are astonished when they view the same. "Nor hath He given these blessings for a day, Nor made them on the body's life depend; The Soul, though made in time, survives for aye; And though it hath beginning, sees no end." This passage leads up to the climax of the poem in its closing argument that the Soul is immortal and cannot be destroyed. "Her only end is never-ending bliss, Which is, the eternal face of God to see; Who last of ends and first of causes is: And to do this, she must eternal be." The poet bases this upon five reasons. One is man's unlimited desire to learn or know, which springs from the essence of the Soul, and with this desire a power "to find out every truth if she had time." "But since our life so fast away doth slide, As doth a hungry eagle through the wind, Or as a ship transported with the tide, Which in their passage leave no print behind: "Of which swift little time so much we spend, "Or God (which to vain ends hath nothing done) In vain this appetite and pow'r hath given, Or else our knowledge which is here begun Hereafter must be perfected in heaven." Another reason is the Soul's aspiration to eternity. "Water in conduit-pipes can rise no higher Than the well-head, from whence it first doth spring; Then since to Eternal God she doth aspire, She cannot be but an eternal thing." Who ever ceased to wish, when he had health, or having wisdom was not vexed in mind? "So, when the Soul finds here no true content, And, like Noah's dove, can no sure footing take, She doth return from whence she first was sent, And flies to Him that first her wings did make." Another reason is that the best Souls often desire the body's death, which would not be if the body's death were theirs, "For all things else, which Nature makes to be, Their being to preserve are chiefly taught; And though some things desire a change to see, Yet never thing did long to turn to nought. "If then by death the Soul were quenchéd quite, She could not thus against her nature run; Since every senseless thing, by Nature's light, Doth preservation seek, destruction shun. "Nor could the world's best spirits so much err, If death took all, that they should all agree, Before this life, their honour to prefer: For what is praise to things that nothing be?" Again, if the Soul stood by the Body's prop, "We should not find her half so brave and bold, To lead it to the wars, and to the seas, To make it suffer watchings, hunger, cold, When it might feed with plenty, rest with ease.” Another reason is that as the good Soul by scorn of the Body's death shows that she cannot die, the wicked Soul proves her eternity by fear of death. The Soul's craving for continuance is shown also "by tombs, by books, by memorable deeds," and by care for posterity; true notes of immortality written by Nature herself in our heart's tables. Finally, even those who reason against the Soul's immortality use the Soul's power to conceive its immortality, and prove it by the act of reasoning against it. "So when we God and angels do conceive, And think of truth, which is eternal too; Then do our minds immortal forms receive, Which if they mortal were, they could not do. "And as if beasts conceiv'd what reason were, And that conception should distinctly show, They should the name of reasonable bear; For without reason none could reason know. "So when the Soul mounts with so high a wing As of eternal things she doubts can move, She proofs of her eternity doth bring Even when she strives the contrary to prove." After arguing that the Soul is indestructible, the poet answers objections to faith in her immortality, from the intellectual dotage of old men, idiocy, madness. The defects are in the sense's organs. The Soul does not lose her power to see, "though mists and clouds do choke her window light." "These imperfections then we must impute Not to the agent but the instrument: We must not blame Apollo, but his lute, If false accords from her false strings be sent." After following the Soul a little way beyond the gates of death, thus the poem closes : "O ignorant poor man! what dost thou bear, Lock'd up within the casket of thy breast? What jewels, and what riches hast thou there? What heavenly treasure in so weak a chest? "Look in thy Soul, and thou shalt beauties find Like those which drown'd Narcissus in the flood: Honour and pleasure both are in thy mind, And all that in the world is counted good. |