WHEN I survey the bright         Celestial sphere; So rich with jewels hung, that Night   Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:

  My soul her wings doth spread         And heavenward flies, Th' Almighty's mysteries to read   In the large volumes of the skies.

  For the bright firmament         Shoots forth no flame So silent, but is eloquent   In speaking the Creator's name.

  No unregarded star         Contracts its light Into so small a character,   Removed far from our human sight,

  But if we steadfast look         We shall discern In it, as in some holy book,   How man may heavenly knowledge learn.

  It tells the conqueror         That far-stretch'd power, Which his proud dangers traffic for,   Is but the triumph of an hour:

  That from the farthest North,         Some nation may, Yet undiscover'd, issue forth,   And o'er his new-got conquest sway:

  Some nation yet shut in         With hills of ice May be let out to scourge his sin,   Till they shall equal him in vice.

  And then they likewise shall         Their ruin have; For as yourselves your empires fall,   And every kingdom hath a grave.

  Thus those celestial fires,         Though seeming mute, The fallacy of our desires   And all the pride of life confute:—

  For they have watch'd since first         The World had birth: And found sin in itself accurst,   And nothing permanent on Earth.