Classic Poem

The Island's Prince, of frame more than celestial,
Is rightly called the all-seeing Intellect:
All glorious bright, such nothing is terrestrial,
Whose sun-like face and most divine aspect
No human sight may ever hope descry,
For when himself on's self reflects his eye
Dull and amazed he stands at so bright majesty.

Look as the sun, whose ray and searching light
Here, there, and everywhere itself displays,
No nook or corner flies his piercing sight;
Yet on himself when he reflects his rays
Soon back he flings the too bold venturing gleam,
Down to the earth the flames all broken stream:
Such is this famous Prince, such his unpierced beam.

His strangest body is not bodily,
But matter without matter; never filled,
Nor filling; though within his compass high
All heaven and earth, and all in both, are held,
Yet thousand thousand heavens he could contain,
And still as empty as at first remain,
And when he takes in most, readiest to take again.

Though travelling all places, changing none:
Bid him soar up to heaven, and thence down throwing
The centre search, and Dis dark realm: he's gone,
Returns, arrives, before thou saw'st him going;
And while his weary kingdom safely sleeps,
All restless night he watch and warding keeps,
Never his careful head on resting pillow steeps.

In every quarter of this blessed Isle
Himself both present is, and President;
Nor once retires (ah happy realm the while,
That by no officer's lewd ravishment
With greedy lust and wrong consumed art!).
He all in all, and all in every part,
Does share to each his due, and equal dole impart.

He knows nor death, nor years, nor feeble age,
But as his time, his strength and vigour grows:
And when his kingdom by intestine rage
Lies broke and wasted, open to his foes,
And battered sconce now flat and even lies,
Sooner than thought to that great Judge he flies,
Who weighs him just reward of good or injuries.

For he the Judge's viceroy here is placed,
Where if he live as knowing he may die,
He never dies, but with fresh pleasures graced
Bathes his crowned head in soft eternity,
Where thousand joys, and pleasures ever new,
And blessings thicker than the morning dew,
With endless sweets rain down on that immortal crew.

There golden stars set in the crystal snow;
There dainty joys laugh at white-headed caring;
There day no night, delight no end shall know;
Sweets without surfeit, fullness without sparing,
And by its spending, growing happiness.
There God Himself in glories lavishness
Diffused in all, to all, is all full blessedness.

But if he here neglect his master's law,
And with those traitors 'gainst his Lord rebels,
Down to the deeps ten thousand fiends him draw:
Deeps where night, death, despair and horror dwells,
And in worst ills, still worse expecting fears;
Where fell despite for spite his bowels tears,
And still increasing grief, and torment never wears.

Prayers there are idle, death is wooed in vain;
In midst of death, poor wretches long to die;
Night without day or rest, still doubling pain,
Woes spending still, yet still their end less nigh;
The soul there restless, helpless, hopeless lies,
The body frying roars, and roaring fries:
There's life that never lives, and death that never dies.

Hence while unsettled here, he fighting reigns,
Shut in a tower where thousand enemies
Assault the fort; with wary care and pains
He guards all entrance, and by divers spies
Searches into his foes' and friends' designs,
For most he fears his subjects' wavering minds:
This tower then only falls when treason undermines.