us, yet makes no part in us; and that is, the spirit of
God; the fire and scintillation of that noble and mighty
essence, which is the life and radical heat of spirits, and
those essences that know not the virtue of the sun; a fire
quite contrary to the fire of hell. This is that gentle
heat that brooded on the waters, and in six days hatched
the world; this is that irradiation that dispels the mists
of hell, the clouds of horror, fear, sorrow, despair; and
preserves the region of the mind in serenity. Whatso-
ever feels not the warm gale and gentle ventilation of
this spirit (though I feel his pulse), I dare not say he
lives; for truly without this, to me, there is no heat
under the tropick; nor any light, though I dwelt in
the body of the sun.

"As when the labouring sun hath wrought his track
Up to the top of lofty Cancer's back,
The icy ocean cracks, the frozen pole
Thaws with the heat of the celestial coal;
So when thy absent beams begin t'impart
Again a solstice on my frozen heart,
My winter's o'er, my drooping spirits sing,
And every part revives into a spring.
But if thy quickening beams a while decline,
And with their light bless not this orb of mine,
A chilly frost surpriseth every member.
And in the midst of June I feel December.
Oh how this earthly temper doth debase
The noble soul, in this her humble place!
Whose wingy nature ever doth aspire