The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 2/The Ecstasy
For works with similar titles, see The Ecstasy.
THE ECSTASY.
I leave mortality, and things below;I have no time in compliments to waste;Farewell to ye all in haste,For I am call'd to go.A whirlwind bears-up my dull feet,Th' officious clouds beneath them meet;And lo! I mount, and lo!How small the biggest parts of earth's proud title show!
Where shall I find the noble British land?Lo; I at last a northern speck espy,Which in the sea does lie,And seems a grain o' th' sand!For this will any sin, or bleed?Of civil wars is this the meed?And is it this, alas! which we(Oh irony of words!) do call Great Britanie?
I pass by th' arch'd magazines which holdTh' eternal stores of frost, and rain, and snow;Dry and secure I go,Nor shake with fear or cold: Without affright or wonderI meet clouds charg'd with thunder,And lightnings, in my way,Like harmless lambent fires about my temples play.
Now into a gentle sea of rolling flameI'm plung'd, and still mount higher there,As flames mount up through air:So perfect, yet so tame,So great, so pure, so bright a fire,Was that unfortunate desire,My faithful breast did cover,Then, when I was of late a wretched mortal lover.
Through several orbs which one fair planet bear,Where I behold distinctly as I passThe hints of Galileo's glass,I touch at last the spangled sphere:Here all th' extended skyIs but one galaxy,’Tis all so bright and gay,And the joint eyes of night make up a perfect day.
Where am I now? Angels, and God is here;An unexhausted ocean of delightSwallows my senses quite,And drowns all What, or How, or Where!Not Paul, who first did thither pass,And this great world's Columbus was, The tyrannous pleasure could express.Oh, ’tis too much for man! but let it ne'er be less!
The mighty' Elijah mounted so on high,That second man who leap'd the ditch where allThe rest of mankind fall,And went not downwards to the sky!With much of pomp and show(As conquering kings in triumph go)Did he to heaven approach,And wondrous was his way, and wondrous was his coach.
'T was gaudy all; and rich in every partOf essences, of gems; and spirit of goldWas its substantial mould,Drawn forth by chemick angels' art.Here with moon-beams 't was silver'd bright,There double-gilt with the sun's light;And mystick shapes cut round in it,Figures that did transcend a vulgar angel's wit.
The horses were of temper'd lightning made,Of all that in Heaven's beauteous pastures feedThe noblest, sprightful'st breed;And flaming manes their necks array'd:They all were shod with diamond,Not such as here are found,But such light solid ones as shineOn the transparent rocks o' th' Heaven-crystalline.
Thus mounted the great Prophet to the skies;Astonish'd men, who oft had seen stars fall,Or that which so they call,Wonder'd from hence to see one rise.The soft clouds melted him a way;The snow and frosts which in it layAwhile the sacred footsteps bore;The wheels and horses' hoofs hizz'd as they pass'd them o'er!
He pass'd by th' moon and planets, and did frightAll the worlds there which at this meteor gaz'd,And their astrologers amaz'dWith th' unexampled sight.But where he stopp'd will ne'er be known,Till Phœnix Nature, aged grown,To' a better thing do aspire,And mount herself, like him, to' eternity in fire.