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Of his own Image, which the Body joyn’dTo it, ennobled so that both pourtrayTheir maker, as though Heaven with earth combin’dA little System of the Universe to find.But yet though he of Soul and Body bothWas made, and of the two the nobler part dothThe subject nominate; yet that same ArtThat made so rare a piece, dot from the partLess noble name the whole, Adam, or Dust,Wherein a Mystery was couch’d, whose heartOf life the Centre, to Earth’s bowels mustReturn, the Earth it self for man’s sake being cursed.Right so our Stone containeth Natures two,One hidden, subtle Soul, Heavens Progeny,The other gross, compact, terrene also,Earth’s product must to Earth by destiny;Which when resolv’d is made a feculencyTo sight, but the Coelestial part is still(Though over-clouded) most pure inwardly,And shall at last most Pearlie drops distill,Which shall the barren Earth with fruit in plenty fill.Thus all our Secrets from the Eath do flow,‘Tis Earth which for our base at first we take,Our Wate also unto Earth must go,And both together must a Limus make,Which we with respite by our Art must bake,Ill all become a Spirit glorify’d,Whose firmness wasting, time shall never shake;By perfect union th’ are so surely ty’d,Each Element the other three within it self doth hide.Take then that thing which Gold we plese to call,But ‘tis not Gold, yet Gold it is in truth;Metalline ‘tis, yet from a MineralIt flows, which Art by Nature holp renew’th,And to a Fool an ugly face it sheweth;Yet to a Son of Art it lovely seems,‘Tis Stellar white, and tender in his youth,And vile appears in many mens esteems,Yea the most part of men it for a trifle deems.171