Tuesday, 21 November 2017

The Hunting of the GREENELYON


ALL haile to the noble Companie
Oftrue Students in holy Alchimie,
Whose noble practise doth hem teach
To vaile their secrets with mistie speach;
Mought yt please your worshipfulnes
To heare my silly soothfastnes,
Of that practise which I have seene,
In hunting of the Lyon Greene:

And because you may be apaid,
That ys truth, that I have said;
And that you may for surety weene,
That I know well thys Lyon greene:
I pray your patience to attend
Till you see my short writt end,
Wherein Ile keepe my noble Masters rede,
Who while he lived stoode me in steede;
At his death he made me sweare hym to,
That all the secrets I schould never undoe
To no one Man, but even spread a Cloude
Over my words and writes, and so it shroude,
That they which do this Art desire,
Should first know well to rule their Fyre:

For with good reason yt doth stand,
Swords to keepe fro mad Mens hand:
Least th'one should, kill th'other burne,
Or either doe some sore shroud turne:
As some have done that I have seene,
As they did hunt thys Lyon greene.
Whose collour doubtles ys not soe,
And that your wisdomes well doe know;
For no man lives that ever hath seene
Upon foure feete a Lyon colloured greene:
But our Lyon wanting maturity,
Is called greene for unripenes trust me,
And yet full quickly can he run,
And soone can overtake the Sun:
And suddainely can hym devoure,
If they be both shut in one towre:
And hym Eclipse that was so bryght,
And make thys redde to turne to whyte:
By vertue of hys crudytie,
And unripe humors whych in hym be,
And yet wythin he hath such heate,
That whan he hath the Sun up eate,
He bringeth hym to more perfection,
Than ever he had by Natures direccion.
This Lyon maketh the Sun sith soone
To be joyned to hys Sister the Moone:
By way of wedding a wonderous thing,
Thys Lyon should cause hem to begett a King:
And tis as strange that thys Kings food,
Can be nothing but thys Lyons Blood;
And tis as true that thys ys none other,
Than ys it the Kings Father and Mother.
A wonder a Lyon, and Sun and Moone,
All these three one deede have done:

The Lyon ys the Preist, the Sun and Moone the wedd,
Yet they were both borne in the Lyons Bedd;
And yet thys King was begott by none other,
But by Sun and Moone hys owne Sister and Brother.

O noble Master of pardon I you pray,
Because I did well-neere bewray
The secret which to me ys so deare,
For I thought none but Brothers were here:
Than schould I make no doubt
To have written plainely out,
But for my fealty I must keepe aye,
Ile turne my pen another way,
To speake under Benedicite
Of thys noble Company:
Wych now perceives by thys,
That I know what our Lyon ys.

Although in Science I am noe Clerke,
Yet have I labour'd in thys warke:
And truly wythouten any nay,
If you will listen to my lay:
Some thing thereby yow may finde,
That well may content your minde,
I will not sweare to make yow give credence,
For a Philosopher will finde here in evidence,
Of the truth, and to men that be Lay,
I skill not greatly what they say.
For they weene that our Lyon ys
Common Quick silver, but truly they miss:
And of thys purpose evermore shall fayle,
And spend hys Thrift to litle availe,
That weeneth to warke hys wyll thereby,
Because he doth soe readely flie;
Therefore leave off ere thou begin,
Till thow know better what we meane;

Whych whan thow doest than wilt thou say
That I have tought thee a good lay,
In that whych I have said of thee before,
Wherefore lysten and marke well my lore.

Whan thow hast thy Lyon with Sol and Luna well fedd,
And layd them clenly in their Bedd;
An easie heate they may not misse,
Till each the other well can kisse;
And that they shroude them in a skin,
Such as an Egg yelke lyeth in:
Than must thow draw from thence away,
A right good secret withouten any nay:
Wych must serve to doe thee good,
For yt ys the Lyons Blood:
And therewith must the King be fedd,
When he ys risen from the dead:
But longe tyme it wilbe,
Or ere his death appeare to thee;
And many a sleepe thow must lack,
Or thow hym see of Collour black.
Take heede yow move hym not with yre,
But keepe hym in an easy fyre;
Untill you see hym seperate,
From hys vile Erth vituperate;
Wych wilbe black and light withall,
Much like the substance of a fusball:
Your magnet in the midst wilbe,
Of Collour faire and white trust me;
Then whan you see all thys thing,
Your fire one degree increasing;
Untill yow well may se thereby,
Your matter to grow very dry:
Then yt ys fit wythout delay,
The excrements be tane away;

Prepaire a Bed most bryght and shine
For to lodge this young Chylde in:
And therein let hym alone lye,
Till he be throughly dry;
Than ys tyme as I doe thinke,
After such drouth to give him drinke:
But thereof the truth to shew,
Is a greate secret well I know;
For Philosophers of tyme old,
The secret of Imbibition never out tould;
To create Magnesia they made no care,
In their Bookes largely to declare;
But how to order it after hys creacion,
They left poore men without consolacion;
Soe many men thought they had had perfeccion,
But they found nothing in their Projeccion:
Therefore they mard what they had made before,
And of Alchimy they would have no more.
Thus do olde Fathers hide it from a Clearke,
Because in it consisteth the whole subtill warke;
Wych if ye list of me to know,
I shall not faile the truth to shew.
Whan your pure matter in the glasse is fitt,
Before that you your vessell shitt;
A portion of your Lyons sweate
Must be given it for to eate:
And they must be grounded so well together,
That each fro other will flee noe whither;
Then must you seale up your Glasse,
And in hys Furnace where he was,
You must set them there to dry.
Which being done then truly,
You must prepare like a good Phisitian,
For another Imbibition:

But evermore looke that you dry
Up all hys drinke, that none lye by,
For if yow make hym drinke too free,
The longer will your workeing be,
And yf you let hym be too dry,
Than for thirst your Child may dye;
Wherefore the meane to hold is best,
Twixt overmoyst and too much rost;
Six tymes thy Imbibitions make,
The seaventh that Saboath's rest betake:
Eight dayes twixt ilke day of the six,
To dry up moist and make it fix;
Then at the nynth tyme thy Glasse up seale,
And let him stand six weekes each deale:
With his heate temperd so right,
That Blacknes past he may grow white;
And so the seaventh weeke rest him still,
Till thow Ferment after thy will;
Which if thow wilt Ferment for Whyte,
Thereby thow gainst noe greate profitt;
For I assure thee thow needest not dred,
To proceede with fire till all be Redd;
Than must thow proceede as did Philosophers old
To prepaire thy Ferment of peure Gold,
Which how to doe though secret that it be,
Yet will I truly teach it thee.

In the next Chapter as erst I did say,
That soe the truth finde yow may,
Therefore of Charity and for our Lords sake,
Let noe man from my writings take
One word, nor add thereto,
For certainely if that he doe,
He shall shew malice fro the which I am free,
Meaning truth and not subtilty;

Which I refer to the Judgement
Of those which ken the Philosophers intent:
Now listen me with all your might,
How to prepare your Ferment right.

O noble Worke of workes that God has wrought,
Whereby each thing of things are forth aye broght;
And fitted to their generacion,
By a noble fermentacion;
Which Ferment must be of such a thing,
As was the workes begyning;
And if thow doe progresse aright
Whan thow hast brought the worke to whight;
And than to stay is thy intent,
Doe after my Comandement;
Worke Luna by her selfe alone,
With the blood of the greene Lyon:
As earst thow didst in the begining,
And of three didst make one thing,
Orderly yeilding forth right,
Till thy Magnet schew full whyte;
Soe must thow warke all thy Ferment,
Both White and Red, else were yt shent.
Red by yt selfe and soe the White,
With the Lyons Blood must be deight;
And if thow wilt follow my lore,
Set in thy Ferment the same houre,
Of Sol for Redd, of Luna for White,
Each by himselfe let worke tight;
Soe shall thy Ferment be ready edress,
To feede the King with a good mess
Of meates that fitt for his digestion,
And well agreeing to his Complexion;
If he be of Collour White,
Feed hym than with Luna bright;

If his flesh be perfect Red,
Than with the Sun he must be fedd,
Your Ferment one fourth parte must be,
Into your Magnet made evenly,
And joyne hem warme and not cold,
For raw to ripe you may be bold
Have disagreement soe have heate and cold:
Therefore put hem warme into thy Glasse,
Then seale it up even as it was:
And Circle all till yt be wonne,
By passing degrees every each one:
Both black and whyte, and also redd,
Than of the Fire heere have noe dread;
For he will never dreade the fyre,
But ever abide thy desire.

And heere a secret to thee I must shew,
How to Multeplie that thow must know,
Or else it wilbe over micle paine
For thee to begin thy worke againe:
I say to thee that in noe fashion,
It's so well Multeplied as with continuall Firmentation:
And sure far it wilbe exalted at the last,
And in Projeccion ren full fast:
There for in fyre keepe Firment alway,
That thy Medicine augment mayst aye;
For yf the maid doe not her leaven save,
Then of her Neighbours sche must needs goe crave;
Or sche must stay till sche can make more,
Remember the Proverbe that store is no sore:
Thus have I tought thee a lesson, full of truth,
If thow be wicked therefore my heart is reuth:
Remember God hys blessing he can take,
Whan he hath given it, if abuse any you make,
For surely if thow be a Clerke,

Thow wilt finde trewth in thys werke:
But if so be that thow be lay,
And understond not what I say,
Keepe Councell then and leve thy Toy,
For it befitts no Lymmer loy,
To medle with such grete secresie:
As ys thys hygh Phylosophye.
My Councell take, for •how schalt finde it true,
Leave of seeking thys Lyon to pursue,
For hym to hunt that ys a prety wyle,
Yet by hys Craft he doth most Folke beguile,
And hem devour and leave hem full of care,
Wherefore I bidd thee to beware.
And Councell give thee as my frend,
And so my Hunting here I end.
Praying God that made us we may not myss
To dwell with hym in hys Hevenly blyss.

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