Colours will starve, and all their glories die,
Invented only to deceive the eye;
150And he that wily Law does love
Much more of serpent has than dove,
There's nothing in Astrology,
But Delphic ambiguity;
We are misguided in the dark, and thus
Each star becomes an Ignis fatuus:
Yet pardon me, ye glorious Lamps of light,