Wherefore more boldly now to represent The nature of the world, how first things were How now they are: This endlesse large Extent Of lowest life (which I styled whileere The _Cuspis_ of the _Cone_ that’s every where) Was first all dark, till in this spacious Hall Hideous through silent horrour torches clear And lamping lights bright shining over all Were set up in due distances proportionall.
Innumerable numbers of fair Lamps Were rightly ranged in this hollow hole, To warm the world and chace the shady damps Of immense darknesse, rend her pitchie stole Into short rags more dustie dimme then coal. Which pieces then in severall were cast (Abhorred reliques of that vesture foul) Upon the Globes that round those torches trac’d, Which still fast on them stick for all they run so fast.
Such an one is that which mortall men call Night, A little shred of that unbounded shade. And such a Globe is that which Earth is hight; By witlesse Wizzards the sole centre made Of all the world, and on strong pillars staid. And such a lamp or light is this our Sun, Whose firie beams the scortched Earth invade. But infinite such as he, in heaven won, And more then infinite Earths about those Suns do run;
And to speak out: though I detest the sect Of _Epicurus_ for their manners vile, Yet what is true I may not well reject. Truth’s incorruptible, ne can the style Of vitious pen her sacred worth defile. If we no more of truth should deign t’ embrace Then what unworthy mouths did never soyl, No truths at all mongst men would finden place But make them speedie wings and back to Heaven apace.
I will not say our world is infinite, But that infinitie of worlds ther be. The Centre of our world’s the lively light Of the warm sunne, the visible Deitie Of this externall Temple. _Mercurie_ Next plac’d and warm’d more throughly by his rayes, Right nimbly ’bout his golden head doth flie: Then _Venus_ nothing slow about him strayes, And next our _Earth_ though seeming sad full spritely playes.
And after her _Mars_ rangeth in a round With firie locks and angry flaming eye, And next to him mild _Jupiter_ is found, But Saturn cold wons in our utmost skie. The skirts of his large Kingdome surely lie Near to the confines of some other worlds Whose Centres are the fixed starres on high, ’Bout which as their own proper Suns are hurld _Joves_, _Earths_ and _Saturns_; round on their own axes twurld.