C O R.

We proceed by a direct path to the fount of Life,

Without which no mortal can live.

For here the blood establishes its first beginnings,

And here again, dying, it undergoes its final fate.

Now, with the chest cut open and the sternum removed, the citadel of the soul lies open,

Which thrives well covered by a tunic.

What is this water? you ask. It tempers the fire of the heart,

Of the heart, which places itself in the middle station.

A Muscle arranges the structure with manifold art.

But yet you would not strictly call this a work of art:

It is Nature that directs the sacred actions of the Heart,

In this temple a watchful Vesta nourishes an eternal hearth.

Whether it be called a Ferment or a Spirit,

The shadow of the Body is painted in obscure ways.

The constant force of Nature and her wondrous order,

Not to be imitated by the aid of human ingenuity,

Has ratified intimate covenants for itself with the bedchamber of the Heart,

Having once begun in the first bosom of the Seed.

The palace swells hence, separated into two ventricles,

Which you see are adorned by an equal number of auricles.

Rightly indeed the common folk say: the belly lacks ears;

Would you say the same about this fabric of the Heart?

For the Heart also perceives the movements of the Mind not without a murmur,

And performs the office of a witness:

But let us omit things reserved for other places, and

Let us approach the Ventricles of the Heart themselves with this effort.

Behold, the right Sinus exceeds the left in its cavity,

Yet the latter is usually thicker than the former.

It is the intention of Nature, not a game; for the left

Has a greater weight in augmenting the blood.

Hence there this mass is more saturated with a purple hue,

And, pushed more forcefully, leaps in the circle of the fountain.

And at the same time, with mind and hand, note the transverse Septum,

Providing a boundary for each Sinus.

For many teach that a thin part of the sanguineous liquor

Passes through this, but without a witness.

I appeal to Nature, who will deny that this can happen,

And the reason is evident: there is no passable way.

The auricles, of which mention was just made by us,

they wish to number among the little parts of the heart.

I judge rather that they belong to the neighbouring vessels,

and that they provide a delay for the hot rush.

Lest I delay, I shall immediately reveal to you the vessels of the heart themselves,

vessels accustomed to travel through countless paths.

Among these, the Arteria Magna deservedly takes the leading

parts, and it alone occupies both eyes.

This is the same one which otherwise is accustomed to be called the Aorta,

receiving the wealth of blood when the heart is compressed.

This noble river leaps forth in continuous streams

so that it may carry joyful nourishment to all the limbs.

Hence the implacable Heart beats with a strong motion,

with a brief delay distributing the alternating turns.

But lest that wave, once thrust forth, should regurgitate,

more than one valve closes the path on the inside.

And thus the Heat flows out together into all parts,

and enlivens a thousand internal organs in their places.

What remains, the noble order of the Veins carries back,

which the Cava Vena adorns, standing at the right sinus;

Namely, just as most springs rise from the sea,

and all rushing rivers fall into the sea;

so too, sent forth from the heart through various channels,

every wave of blood returns to this spring.

The labour of the Heart, driven in a circle, walks eternally,

so that the excellent work of life may be perpetuated.

This course of the blood is hence called the Circulus by physicians,

encircling the head of Harvêi, like new garlands.

For he first gave the reflowing river of blood

discovered, worthy of the first honour.

There are indeed those to whom this doctrine seems suspect,

And to have no merit beyond cleverness;

But, by their leave, let me speak the Truth,

Scarcely has any discovery brought more benefits to the Art.

The daughter of Time has long since confirmed this,

So that no room remains for doubts and envy.

Now the Pulmonary Vessels would also have to be discussed,

Seen to rise at the revealed dwellings of the Heart;

But it will be enough to have seen them. Soon the Lung,

Which they seek, partly full of blood, will disclose them both.

Therefore the Heart, retracing the footsteps of its native seat,

Begins to be able to seek credibility from the truth.

And while it receives the shining white stream from the stomach,

And soon clothes it in purple honor, it grows strong.

Now it is permitted to recognize the ancient borders of the empire,

To which the lacteal vessels show the way.

The noble Heart seizes again the wrested fasces,

And holds the restored scepters with a prudent hand.

Its former glory now returns with the snowy-white source,

And all the viscera acknowledge their lord.

Hence it beats, and at last the Heart feels its own precordia,

Or approves as restored the kingdoms it had yielded to others.

Thus the turns have returned; the ancient state stands in its turn;

Following the example of the King, the new world now rejoices.

But what fruit, what fates redound upon this king?

Does the Purple of empire also weigh down the limbs?

Every honor is a burden; by its very glittering splendor

The sacred crown which adorns the Head presses down;

Thus too it is agitated by perpetual motions, and,

Glory always has a source from which it may fear for itself.

The Heart is nothing but care. Even Joys break its strength,

And overly dilate both chambers of the Heart,

Soon again immense Grief impedes its noble daring,

And from excessive Fear the Heart too lacks heart:

And while blazing Madness supplies new flames,

Alas! barren Love scorches the wretched breast.

What pleases is little, the lover's mind is besieged,

Like a stone struck on all sides by the waters of the sea.

Let love be extinguished, behold a new one; fury supplies arms,

And Anger assists murderous hands.

Why should I sing of Desire's silent tumults in the Heart,

And the frail vows of languishing Hope?

Moreover, devouring Envy soon contributes its share to the rest,

Hence the wasting Heart is ruptured by Jealousy.

The Heart is nothing but care! I repeat. You will hold

The greatest realms, if you yourself are King of your Heart.