Which made the fond astronomer run mad;
Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart;
Cause him to sacrifice his fame and peace
To momentary madness, call’d delight.
Idolater, more gross than ever kiss’d
The lifted hand to Luna, or pour’d out
The blood to Jove!—O Thou, to whom belongs
All sacrifice! O Thou Great Jove unfeign’d!
Divine Instructor! Thy first volume, this,
For man’s perusal; all in capitals! 1660