THE Angel ended, and in Adams Eare
So Charmi his voice, that he a while
Thought him still speaking, still stood fixt to hear;
Then as new wakt thus gratefully replid.
What thanks suffit, or what repence [ 5 ]
Equal have I to rehee, Divine
Hystorian, who thus largely hast allayd
The thirst I had of knowledge, and voutsaft
This friendly destion to relate
Things else by me unsearchable, now heard [ 10 ]
With wonder, but delight, and, as is due,
With glorie attributed to the high
Creator; somethi of doubt remaines,
Whiely thy solution resolve.
When I behold this goodly Frame, this World [ 15 ]
Of Heavn ah sisting, and pute,
Thir magnitudes, this Earth a spot, a graine,
An Atom, with the Firmament pard
And all her numberd Starrs, that seem to rowle
Spaces inprehensible (for such [ 20 ]
Thir distance argues and thir swift return
Diurnal) meerly to officiate light
Round this opacous Earth, this punctual spot,
One day and night; in all thir vast survey
Useless besides, reasoning I oft admire, [ 25 ]
How Nature wise and frugal could it
Such disproportions, with superfluous hand
So many nobler Bodies to create,
Greater so manifold to this one use,
Fht appeers, and on thir Orbs impose [ 30 ]
Such restless revolution day by day
Repeated, while the sedentarie Earth,
That better might with farr less pass move,
Servd by more hen her self, attaines
Her end without least motion, and receaves, [ 35 ]
As Tribute such a sumless journey brought
Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light;
Speed, to describe whose swiftness Number failes.