Classic Poem

But now I have a will, yet want a wit,
To express the working of the wit and will;
Which, though their root be to the body knit
Use not the body when they use their skill.

These powers the nature of the Soul declare,
For to man's soul these only proper be;
For on the Earth no other wights there are
That have these heavenly powers, but only we.

The Wit the pupil of the Soul's clear eye,
And in man's world the only shining star,
Looks in the mirror of the Fantasy,
Where all the gatherings of the Senses are.

From thence this power the shapes of things abstracts,
And them within her passive part receives,
Which are enlightned by that part which acts,
And so the forms of single things perceives.

But after, by discoursing to and fro,
Anticipating, and comparing things,
She doth all universal natures know,
And all effects into their causes brings.

When she rates things and moves from ground to ground,
The name of Reason she obtains by this;
But when by Reason she the truth hath found
And standeth fixt, she Understanding is.

When her assent she lightly doth incline
To either part, she is Opinion light:
But when she doth by principles define
A certain truth, she hath true Judgment's sight.

And as from Senses Reason's work doth spring,
So many reasons understanding gain;
And many understandings knowledge bring;
And by much knowledge wisdom we obtain.

So, many stairs we must ascend upright
Ere we attain to Wisdom's high degree:
So doth this Earth eclipse our Reason's light,
Which else (in instants) would like angels see.

Yet hath the Soul a dowry natural.
And sparks of light some common things to see;
Not being a blank where naught is writ at all,
But what the writer will, may written be.

For Nature in man's heart her laws doth pen.
Prescribing truth to wit, and good to will.
Which do accuse, or else excuse all men,
For every thought or practice, good or ill:

And yet these sparks grow almost infinite,
Making the World and all therein their food;
As fire so spreads, as no place holdeth it,
Being nourisht still with new supplies of wood.

And though these sparks were almost quencht with sin,
Yet they whom that just One hath justified
Have them increas'd with heavenly light within,
And like the widow's oil still multiplied.

And as this wit should goodness truly know,
We have a Will, which that true good should choose,
Though Will do oft (when wit false forms doth show)
Take ill for good, and good for ill refuse.

Will puts in practice what the Wit deviseth:
Will ever acts, and Wit contemplates still;
And as from Wit the power of wisdom riseth,
All other virtues daughters are of Will.

Will is the prince, and Wit the counsellor,
Which doth for common good in Counsel sit;
And when Wit is resolv'd, Will lends her power
To execute what is advis'd by Wit.

Wit is the mind's chief judge, which doth control
Of Fancy's court the judgments false and vain;
Will holds the royal sceptre in the soul
And on the passions of the heart doth reign.

Will is as free as any emperor;
Naught can restrain her gentle liberty;
No tyrant nor no torment hath the power
To make us will when we unwilling be.