Have not all soules thought
For many ages, that our body is wrought
Of Ayre, and Fire, and other Elements?
For many ages, that our body is wrought
Of Ayre, and Fire, and other Elements?
John Donne
.
What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.
On Donne the effect was quite the opposite. It was not of religion he
doubted but of science, of human knowledge with its uncertainties, its
shifting theories, its concern about the unimportant:
Poore soule, in this thy flesh what dost thou know?
Thou know'st thy selfe so little, as thou know'st not,
How thou didst die, nor how thou wast begot.
. . . . . . . . .
Have not all soules thought
For many ages, that our body is wrought
Of Ayre, and Fire, and other Elements?
And now they thinke of new ingredients;
And one Soule thinkes one, and another way
Another thinkes, and 'tis an even lay.
. . . . . . . . .
Wee see in Authors, too stiffe to recant,
A hundred controversies of an Ant;
And yet one watches, starves, freeses, and sweats,
To know but Catechismes and Alphabets
Of unconcerning things, matters of fact;
How others on our stage their parts did Act;
What _Caesar_ did, yea, and what _Cicero_ said.
With this welter of shifting theories and worthless facts he contrasts
the vision of which religious faith is the earnest here:
In this low forme, poore soule, what wilt thou doe?
When wilt thou shake off this Pedantery,
Of being taught by sense, and Fantasie?
Thou look'st through spectacles; small things seeme great
Below; But up unto the watch-towre get,
And see all things despoyl'd of fallacies:
Thou shalt not peepe through lattices of eyes,
Nor heare through Labyrinths of eares, nor learne
By circuit, or collections, to discerne.
In heaven thou straight know'st all concerning it,
And what concernes it not, shalt straight forget.
What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.
On Donne the effect was quite the opposite. It was not of religion he
doubted but of science, of human knowledge with its uncertainties, its
shifting theories, its concern about the unimportant:
Poore soule, in this thy flesh what dost thou know?
Thou know'st thy selfe so little, as thou know'st not,
How thou didst die, nor how thou wast begot.
. . . . . . . . .
Have not all soules thought
For many ages, that our body is wrought
Of Ayre, and Fire, and other Elements?
And now they thinke of new ingredients;
And one Soule thinkes one, and another way
Another thinkes, and 'tis an even lay.
. . . . . . . . .
Wee see in Authors, too stiffe to recant,
A hundred controversies of an Ant;
And yet one watches, starves, freeses, and sweats,
To know but Catechismes and Alphabets
Of unconcerning things, matters of fact;
How others on our stage their parts did Act;
What _Caesar_ did, yea, and what _Cicero_ said.
With this welter of shifting theories and worthless facts he contrasts
the vision of which religious faith is the earnest here:
In this low forme, poore soule, what wilt thou doe?
When wilt thou shake off this Pedantery,
Of being taught by sense, and Fantasie?
Thou look'st through spectacles; small things seeme great
Below; But up unto the watch-towre get,
And see all things despoyl'd of fallacies:
Thou shalt not peepe through lattices of eyes,
Nor heare through Labyrinths of eares, nor learne
By circuit, or collections, to discerne.
In heaven thou straight know'st all concerning it,
And what concernes it not, shalt straight forget.
