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Science says that every thing is a lie, and would reduce every thing to figures and lines, not only maria ac terras, where we are, but coelumque profundum, where God is. The wonderful visions of the soul, its mystic raptures, even the inspiration of the poets, are all a lie. The heart is a sponge; the brain, a place for breeding maggots." Every one laughed, while the canon took a draught of wine.
It is this philosophy, at once so magnificent and so fabulous, which Virgil so gracefully expresses in the following verses upon bees: "Esse apibus partem divinae mentis, et haustus AEtherios dixere: Deum namque ire per omnes Terrasque, tractusque maris, caelumque profundum. Hinc pecudes, armenta viros, genus omne ferarum, Quemque sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas.
"De ventre inferi clamavi, et exaudisti vocem meam. "Et projecisti me in profundum in corde mans, et flumem circumdedit me*." * "Out of the belly of hell cried I, and thou heardest my voice. For thou hadst cast me into the deep in the midst of the seas, and the floods compassed me about."
Praeterea, iuxta palatii ambitum, habetur grandis parci spaciamentum, diuersi generis arboribus repletum, fructus ferentibus varios, et nobis inuisos, et in parte media, aula super excelsum collem de tam mira et pulchra structura, vt eius nobilitas de facili ad praesens, non possit describi. Et vndique, par collis gyrum aquae fossatum profundum, et latum vltra quod pons vnicus ducit ad collem.
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