Heightening their mutual bliss; or dwell they fix’d,
Each in his native solitary orb,
Unconscious of the lot of neighboring worlds?
What homage, what returns of grateful love
Yield they to Him who made them? Stand they fast
In undecaying blessedness, secure
From risk of loss: or tread they yet the stage
Of perilous probation? Hath sin won
Conquests through disobedience o’er those hosts
In your bright regions yawn the gates of Death?