How great that Power, whose providential care
Through these bright orbs’ dark centres darts a ray!
Of nature universal threads the whole!
And hangs creation, like a precious gem,
Though little, on the footstool of his throne!
That little gem, how large! A weight let fall
From a fix’d star, in ages can it reach
This distant earth! Say, then, Lorenzo! where,
Where, ends this mighty building? where, begin
The suburbs of creation? where, the wall 1520