The fleet astronomer can bore
And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind:
He views theirs stations, walks from door to door,
Surveys,
as if he had designed
To make a purchase there: he sees their dances,
And
knoweth long before,
Both their full-eyed aspects, and secret glances.
The
nimble diver with his side
Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch
His dearly-earned pearl, which God did hide
On
purpose from the venturous wretch;
That he might save his life, and also hers,
Who
with excessive pride
Her own destruction and his danger wears.
The
subtle chymic can divest
And strip the creature naked, till he find
The callow principles within their nest:
There
he imparts to them his mind,
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before
They
appear trim and dressed
To ordinary suitors at the door.
What
hath not man sought out and found,
But his dear God? who yet his glorious law
Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground
With
showers and frosts, with love and awe,
So that we need not say, Where's this command?
Poor
man, thou searchest round
To find out death, but missest life at hand.
