Of comets; through the constellations holds Her course, and now looks back on all the stars Whose blended flames as with a milky stream Part the blue region. Empyrean tracts, Where happy souls beyond this concave heaven 260 Abide, she then explores, whence purer light For countless ages travels through the abyss, Nor hath in sight of mortals yet arrived. Upon the wide creation's utmost shore At length she stands, and the dread space beyond Contemplates, half-recoiling: nathless, down The gloomy void, astonish'd, yet unquell'd, She plungeth; down the unfathomable gulf Where God alone hath being. There her hopes Rest at the fated goal. For, from the birth 270 Of human kind, the Sovereign Maker said That not in humble, nor in brief delight, Not in the fleeting echoes of renown, Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, The soul should find contentment; but, from these Turning disdainful to an equal good, Through Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim, Till every bound at length should disappear, And infinite perfection fill the scene. But lo, where Beauty, dress'd in gentler pomp, 280 With comely steps advancing, claims the verse Her charms inspire. O Beauty, source of praise, Of honour, even to mute and lifeless things; O thou that kindlest in each human heart Love, and the wish of poets, when their tongue Would teach to other bosoms what so charms Their own; O child of Nature and the soul, In happiest hour brought forth; the doubtful garb Of words, of earthly language, all too mean, Too lowly I account, in which to clothe 290 Thy form divine; for thee the mind alone Beholds, nor half thy brightness can reveal Through those dim organs, whose corporeal touch O'ershadoweth thy pure essence. Yet, my Muse, If Fortune call thee to the task, wait thou Thy favourable seasons; then, while fear And doubt are absent, through wide nature's bounds Expatiate with glad step, and choose at will Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 300 To manifest unblemish'd Beauty's praise, And o'er the breasts of mortals to extend Her gracious empire. Wilt thou to the isles Atlantic, to the rich Hesperian clime, Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on, And learn from him; while, as he roves around, Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, The branches bloom with gold; where'er his foot Imprints the soil, the ripening clusters swell, Turning aside their foliage, and come forth 310 In purple lights, till every hillock glows As with the blushes of an evening sky? Or wilt thou that Thessalian landscape trace, Where slow Peneus his clear glassy tide Draws smooth along, between the winding cliffs Of Ossa and the pathless woods unshorn That wave o'er huge Olympus? Down the stream,