Doubt not your voice time's circle can control,
And make the sun his hasty jennets rein.
Nay more, methinks m' enlight'ned eyes discover
'Bout you the gods with veilèd bonnets hover.
I'm half-persuaded 'twas not blasphemy
[1300]For me to say your nod can ravel Fate;
Thaw into chaos this firm globe of dry;
Beckon the planets; and their tow'rs unslate.
Methinks I see the sun nailed to his sky,
Unnath his car, and throw his whipstaff by.'