“Read on _this_ dial”—“Behold _these_ lilies”—does not this put you
in mind of the same form of expression in Ossian? “His spear was like
_that_ blasted fir.”
Quarles was commenting on his print in which the dial and lilies were
represented; Ossian saw his images “in his mind’s eye”——but both the
poets considered them as really existing—at least, they make them
exist to their readers.
“How the shades devour,” &c. Shakspeare has the same figure
——————the tide
_Eats_ not the flats with more impetuous haste
it is wonderfully expressive!
In what he calls his hieroglyphics, Quarles compares man to a taper,
which furnishes him with a number of very striking allusions. It is
at first unlighted, then a hand from heaven touches it with fire—the
motto, _Nescius unde_.
This flame-expecting taper hath at length
Received fire, and now begins to burn:
It hath no vigour yet, it hath no strength;
Apt to be puft and quencht at every turn:
It was a gracious hand that thus endow’d
This snuff with flame: but mark, this hand doth shroud
Itself from mortal eyes, and folds it in a cloud.
Thus man begins to live. An unknown flame
Quickens his finished organs, now possest
With motion; and which motion doth proclaim
An active soul, though in a feeble breast:
But how, and when infus’d, ask not my pen;
Here flies a cloud before the eyes of men,
I cannot tell thee how, nor canst thou tell me when.
Was it a parcel of celestial fire,
Infus’d by heav’n into this fleshly mould?
Or was it, think you, made a soul entire?
Then, was it new created, or of old?
Or is’t a propagated spark, rak’d out
From nature’s embers? while we go about
By reason to resolve, the more we raise a doubt.
If it be part of that celestial flame,
It must be ev’n as pure, as free from spot,
As that eternal fountain whence it came;
If pure and spotless, then whence came the blot?
Itself being pure, could not itself defile;
Nor hath unactive matter pow’r to soil
Her pure and active form, as jars corrupt their oil.
Or if it were created, tell me when?
If in the first six days, where kept ’till now?
Or if thy soul were new-created, then
Heav’n did not all at first, he had to do:
Six days expired, all creation ceast;
All kinds, ev’n from the greatest to the least,
Were finish’d and compleat before the day of rest.
But why should man, the Lord of creatures, want
That privilege which plants and beasts obtain?
Beasts bring forth beasts, and plant a perfect plant;
And ev’ry like brings forth her like again;
Shall fowls and fishes, beasts and plants convey
Life to their issue, and man less than they?
Shall these get living souls, and man dead lumps of clay?
Must human souls be generated then?——
My water ebbs; behold a rock is nigh:
If nature’s work produce the souls of men,
Man’s soul is mortal—all that’s born must die.
What shall we then conclude! what sunshine will
Disperse this gloomy cloud? till then, be still
My vainly striving thoughts; lie down my puzzled quill.