1That many heliotropians
there be, 2Philosophers
unanimously agree; 3But that a plant should in the center
grow, 4Few naturalists to find the truth will go
5So far below the caverns of the dead
6To find this simple, simp’ring
in her bed, 7Which sends forth branches through the sea or earth,
8And, as the sun doth rise, begins her birth;
9Then, as he
higher doth in splendor go, 10Even so this azure
flower doth taller grow; 11And when he mounts to his meridian height,
12Then many cubits she doth stand upright
13Above the earth; when to the western tracts
14Hesperion
goes, her stature she contracts; 15Then, when he hurries down th’Olympic hill,
16Lower and lower, this brave flower grows still;
17But when in Thetis’s lap he lays his head,
18She sadly sinks into her earthly bed.
19When to th’antipodes he doth appear,
20She follows him to th’other hemisphere;
21The earth or sea being everywhere above her,
22She breaks through all to meet her radiant lover;
23Even so those souls which are to God united,
24Though in this vale of tears they be benighted,
25Yet still a blessed influence from above
26Sweetly inclines them to a constant love:
27Though tyrants in their innocent bloods do wallow,
28Though they the martyrs in their deaths do follow—
29Wheels, gibbets, precipices, crosses, flame—
30They’ll break through all to magnify His name.
31’Tis neither power nor principality,
32Dear God, can separate my soul from Thee;
33Nor all the powers of Heaven, Hell, or Earth
34Can keep my soul from whence she had her birth;
35Though death calcine my flesh and bones to dust,
36In my first principles, I’ll in Thee trust;
37Nay, even my dust dispersed shall rest in hope
38To meet my Savior in a horoscope
39Infinitely than this, our orb, more bright,
40Not interwoven, as now, with death and night;
41Then, though I sadly here sigh out my story,
42Yet am I sure to rise again to glory.