Luxuriant growths; nor the late autumn wait
Of human worth, but ripen soon to gods?
Yet why drown fancy in such depths as these?
Return, presumptuous rover! and confess
The bounds of man; nor blame them, as too small.
Enjoy we not full scope in what is seen?
Pull ample the dominions of the sun!
Full glorious to behold! How far, how wide,
The matchless monarch, from his flaming throne, 1619
Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him,