The consciousness of strength in enemies,
Who must be strain’d upon or else they rise;
The battle to the moon, who all the while,
High out of hearing, passes with her smile:
The tempest, trampled in his scanty run,
To the whole globe, that basks about the sun;
Or as all shrieks and clangs, with which a sphere,
Undone and fired, could rake the midnight ear,
Compared with that vast dumbness nature keeps
Throughout her starry deeps,