Where I may sit, and nightly spell
Of ev'ry star the sky doth shew,
And ev'ry herb that sips the dew. Milton.
Of ten, which is the common measure of heroick and tragick poetry,
Full in the midst of this created space,
Betwixt heav'n, earth, and skies, there stands a place
Confining on all three; with triple bound;
Whence all things, though remote, are view'd around,
And thither bring their undulating sound.
The palace of loud Fame, her seat of pow'r,