Democritus Platonissans Part 5

But the appearance of the nightly starres Is but the by-work of each neighbour sun; Wherefore lesse marvell if it lightly shares Of neater Art; and what proportion Were fittest for to distance one from one (Each world I mean from other) is not clear.

Wherefore it must remain as yet unknown Why such perplexed distances appear Mongst the dispersed lights in Heaven thrown here & there.

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Again, that eminent similitude Betwixt the starres and Phbus fixed light, They being both with steddinesse indu'd, No whit removing whence they first were pight, No serious man will count a reason slight To prove them both, both fixed suns and starres And Centres all of severall worlds by right, For right it is that none a sun debarre Of Planets which his just and due retinue are.

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If starres be merely starres not centrall lights Why swell they into so huge bignesses?

For many (as Astronomers do write) Our sun in bignesse many times surpa.s.se.

If both their number and their bulks were lesse Yet lower placed, light and influence Would flow as powerfully, and the bosome presse Of the impregned Earth, that fruit from hence As fully would arise, and lordly affluence.

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Wherefore these fixed Fires mainly attend Their proper charge in their own Universe, And onely by the by of court'sie lend Light to our world, as our world doth reverse His thankfull rayes so farre as he can pierce Back unto other worlds. But farre aboven Further then furthest thought of man can traverse, Still are new worlds aboven and still aboven.

In the endlesse hollow Heaven, and each world hath his sun.

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An hint of this we have in winter-nights, When reason may see clearer then our eye, Small subtil starres appear unto our sights As thick as pin-dust scattered in the skie.

Here we accuse our seeing facultie Of weaknesse, and our sense of foul deceit, We do accuse and yet we know not why.

But the plain truth is, from a vaster hight The numerous upper worlds amaze our dazzled sight.

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Now sith so farre as sense can ever trie We find new worlds, that still new worlds there be, And round about in infinite numbers lie, Further then reach of mans weak phantasie (Without suspition of temeritie) We may conclude; as well as men conclude That there is aire farre 'bove the mountains high, Or that th' Earth a sad substance doth include Even to the Centre with like qualities indu'd.

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For who did ever the Earths Centre pierce, And felt or sand or gravell with his spade At such a depth? what Histories rehea.r.s.e That ever wight did dare for to invade Her bowels but one mile in dampish shade?

Yet I'll be bold to say that few or none But deem this globe even to the bottome made Of solid earth, and that her nature's one Throughout, though plain experience hath it never shown.

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But sith sad earth so farre as they have gone They still descrie, eas'ly they do inferre Without all check of reason, were they down Never so deep, like substance would appear, Ne dream of any hollow horrour there.

My mind with like uncurb'd facilitie Concludes from what by sight is seen so clear That ther's no barren wast vacuitie Above the worlds we see, but still new worlds there lie,

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And still and still even to infinitie.

Which point since I so fitly have propos'd, Abating well the inconsistencie Of harsh infinitude therein supposd And prov'd by reasons never to be loos'd That infinite s.p.a.ce and infinite worlds there be; This load laid down, I'm freely now dispos'd Awhile to sing of times infinitie, May infinite Time afford me but his smallest fee.

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For smallest fee of time will serve my turn This part for to dispatch, sith endlesse s.p.a.ce (Whose perplext nature well mans brains might turn, And weary wits disorder and misplace) I have already pa.s.sed: for like case Is in them both. He that can well untie The knots that in those infinite worlds found place, May easily answer each perplexitie Of these worlds infinite matters endlesse durancie.

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The _Cuspis_ and the _Basis_ of the _Cone_ Were both at once dispersed every where; But the pure _Basis_ that is G.o.d alone: Else would remotest sights as bigge appear Unto our eyes as if we stood them near.

And if an Harper harped in the Moon, His silver sound would touch our tickled eare: Or if one hollowed from highest Heaven aboven, In sweet still Evening-tide, his voice would hither roam.

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This all would be if the _Cuspe_ of the _Cone_ Were very G.o.d. Wherefore I rightly 't deem Onely a Creaturall projection, Which flowing yet from G.o.d hath ever been, Fill'd the vast empty s.p.a.ce with its large streem.

But yet it is not totall every where As was even now by reason rightly seen: Wherefore not G.o.d, whose nature doth appear Entirely omnipresent, weigh'd with judgement clear,

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A reall infinite matter, distinct And yet proceeding from the Deitie Although with different form as then untinct Has ever been from all Eternitie.

Now what delay can we suppose to be, Since matter alway was at hand prepar'd Before the filling of the boundlesse skie With framed Worlds; for nought at all debar'd, Nor was His strength ungrown, nor was His strength empair'd.

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How long would G.o.d be forming of a flie?

Or the small wandring moats that play i' th' sun?

Least moment well will serve none can denie, His _Fiat_ spoke and streight the thing is done.

And cannot He make all the World as soon?

For in each Atom of the matter wide The totall Deitie doth entirely won, His infinite presence doth therein reside, And in this presence infinite powers do ever abide.

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Wherefore at once from all eternitie The infinite number of these Worlds He made, And will conserve to all infinitie, And still drive on their ever-moving trade, And steddy hold what ever must be staid; Ne must one mite be minish'd of the summe, Ne must the smallest atom ever fade, But still remain though it may change its room; This truth abideth strong from everlasting doom.

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Ne fear I what hard sequel after-wit Will draw upon me; that the number's one Of years, moneths, dayes, houres, and of minutes fleet Which from eternitie have still run on.

I plainly did confesse awhile agone That be it what it will that's infinite More infinites will follow thereupon, But that all infinites do justly fit And equall be, my reason did not yet admit.

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But as my emboldened mind, I know not how, In empty s.p.a.ce and pregnant Deitie Endlesse infinitude dares to allow, Though it begets the like perplexitie: So now my soul drunk with Divinitie, And born away above her usuall bounds With confidence concludes infinitie Of Time of Worlds, of firie flaming Rounds; Which sight in sober mood my spirits quite confounds.

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And now I do awhile but interspire A torrent of objections 'gainst me beat, My boldnesse to represse and strength to tire.

But I will wipe them off like summer sweat, And make their streams streight back again retreat.

If that these worlds, say they, were ever made From infinite time, how comes 't to pa.s.se that yet Art is not perfected, nor metalls fade, Nor mines of grimie coal low-hid in griesly shade.

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But the remembrance of the ancient Floud With ease will wash such arguments away.

Wherefore with greater might I am withstood.

The strongest stroke wherewith they can a.s.say To vanquish me is this; The Date or Day Of the created World, which all admit; Nor may my modest Muse this truth gainsay In holy Oracles so plainly writ.

Wherefore the Worlds continuance is not infinite.

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Now lend me, _Origen_! a little wit This st.u.r.dy stroke right fairly to avoid, Lest that my rasher rymes, while they ill fit With _Moses_ pen, men justly may deride And well accuse of ignorance or pride.

But thou, O holy Sage! with piercing sight Who readst those sacred rolls, and hast well tride With searching eye thereto what fitteth right Thy self of former Worlds right learnedly dost write: