Anatomy of the Brain

TO THE AUTHOR
A poem on the Anatomy of the Brain.

He who paces through the paths of earth and sea, and through all the joints of the world, exulting, and dares to place his labor's goal above the Herculean bounds, lies neglected to himself; and while he searches for all things, the seeker of himself is absent—the unknown land remains the sailor, and the world closer is the more unknown. You, a better Tiphys, with the gold of Phasis now spurned, prepare your sails within yourself; you uncover animated worlds and open human shores with immense daring. And now it is permitted for you to loosen new gulfs, to reveal the secret paths of the hidden soul, to open blind recesses, and to disclose the whole mind. Whatever of human nature hangs beneath the arch of heaven, what citizen the paneled palaces of the head hold; why one membrane should cherish, why another should protect; what witnesses to have begotten, what both mothers of the soul have been able to bring forth as concepts, which cell hides them, what gulf receives them; what sort of marvelous net weaves its snares, catching the forms of things and phantasms: whether the mind retains the images of past labor described on its own membranes, or whether it looms over the fates with foresight, and snatches the coming years from Lachesis. Moreover, it is given to see what swollen waves it stirs in the breast, and what tempest confuses our sea; whence Love arises, and with what nerve Cytherea commands her Son to stretch his bow; why blood is halted by an obstacle, and the little vein is restrained by a twisted knot. We see how Grief sits and draws sighs;