VI.
Swift as light, thoughts their empty career run,
Thy race is finish'd, when begun;
Let a Post-Angel start with thee,
And thou the goal of earth shall reach as soon as he.
VII.
Thou in the moon's bright chariot proud and gay,
Dost thy bright wood of stars survey;
And all the year doth with thee bring
O thousand flowry lights, thine own nocturnal spring.
VIII.
Thou Scythian-like dost round thy lands above
The sun's gilt tent for ever move,
And still as thou in pomp dost go,
The shining pageants of the world attend thy show.
IX.
Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn
The humble Glow-Worms to adorn,
And with those living spangles gild,
(O greatness without pride!) the blushes of the Field.
X.
Night, and her ugly subjects thou dost fright,
And sleep, the lazy Owl of night;
Asham'd and fearful to appear,
They skreen their horrid shapes, with the black hemisphere.