Where end? or how steal music from the spheres, To soothe their goddess? 550 O majestic Night! Nature's great ancestor! Day's elder-born! And fated to survive the transient sun! By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe! A starry crown thy raven brow adorns, An azure zone thy waist; clouds, in heaven's loom Wrought through varieties of shape and shade, In ample folds of drapery divine, Thy flowing mantle form; and, heaven throughout, Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 560 Thy gloomy grandeurs (nature's most august, Inspiring aspect!) claim a grateful verse; And, like a sable curtain starr'd with gold, Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene. And what, O man! so worthy to be sung? What more prepares us for the songs of heaven? Creation, of archangels is the theme! What, to be sung, so needful? What so well Celestial joys prepare us to sustain? The soul of man, His face design'd to see, 570 Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, Has here a previous scene of objects great, On which to dwell; to stretch to that expanse Of thought, to rise to that exalted height Of admiration, to contract that awe, And give her whole capacities that strength, Which best may qualify for final joy. The more our spirits are enlarged on earth, The deeper draught shall they receive of heaven. Heaven's King! whose face unveil'd consummates bliss; Redundant bliss! which fills that mighty void, 581 The whole creation leaves in human hearts! Thou, who didst touch the lip of Jesse's son, Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires, And set his harp in concert with the spheres; While of thy works material the supreme I dare attempt, assist my daring song. Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the sun's Contracted circle set my heart at large; Eliminate my spirit, give it range 590 Through provinces of thought yet unexplored; Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding, Creation's golden steps, to climb to Thee. Teach me with Art great Nature to control, 594 And spread a lustre o'er the shades of Night. Feel I thy kind assent? and shall the sun Be seen at midnight, rising in my song? Lorenzo! come, and warm thee: thou, whose heart, Whose little heart, is moor'd within a nook Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weigh. Another ocean calls, a nobler port; I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 602 Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main; Main, without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore; And whence thou may'st import eternal wealth; And leave to beggar'd minds the pearl and gold. Thy travels dost thou boast o'er foreign realms? Thou stranger to the world! thy tour begin; Thy tour through Nature's universal orb.