John Milton, 1608–1674.
EARTH.
Harp! lift thy voice on high,
And run in rapid numbers o’er the face
Of Nature’s scenery; and there were day
And night, and rising suns, and setting suns;
And clouds that seemed like chariots of saints,
By fiery coursers drawn—as brightly head
As if the glorious, lusty, golden locks
Of thousand cherubims had been shorn off,