XVIII. THE TWO DESERTS.
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ot greatly moved with awe am ITo learn that we may spyFive thousand firmaments beyond our own.The best that's knownOf the heavenly bodies does them credit small.View'd close, the Moon's fair ballIs of ill objects worst,A corpse in Night's highway, naked, fire-scarr'd, accurst;And now they tellThat the Sun is plainly seen to boil and burstToo horribly for hell.So, judging from these two,As we must do,The Universe, outside our living Earth,Was all conceiv'd in the Creator's mirth,Forecasting at the time Man's spirit deep,To make dirt cheap.Put by the Telescope!Better without it man may see,Stretch'd awful in the hush'd midnight,The ghost of his eternity.Give me the nobler glass that swells to the eyeThe things which near us lie,Till Science rapturously hails,In the minutest water-drop,A torment of innumerable tails.These at the least do live.But rather giveA mind not much to pryBeyond our royal-fair estateBetwixt these deserts blank of small and great.Wonder and beauty our own courtiers are,Pressing to catch our gaze,And out of obvious waysNe'er wandering far.
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