BOOK EIGHTH
��187
��Whose virtue on itself works no ettect, But in the fruitful Earth; there first re- ceived,
His beams, unactive else, their vigour find. Yet not to Earth are those bright lumina- ries
Officious, but to thee, Earth's habitant. And, for the Heaven's wide circuit, let it
speak ioo
The Maker's high magnificence, who built So spacious, and his line stretched out so
far, That Man may know he dwells not in his
own
An edifice too large for him to fill, Lodged in a small partition, and the rest Ordained for uses to his Lord best known. The swiftness of those Circles at'tribute, Though numberless, to his Omnipotence, That to corporeal substances could add Speed almost spiritual. Me thou think'st
not slow, no
Who since the morning-hour set out from
Heaven
Where God resides, and ere mid-day arrived In Eden distance inexpressible By numbers that have name. But this I
urge,
Admitting motion in the Heavens, to shew Invalid that which thee to doubt it moved; Not that I so affirm, though so it seem To thee who hast thy dwelling here on
Earth. God, to remove his ways from human
sense, Placed Heaven from Earth so far, that
earthly sight, 120
If it presume, might err in things too high, And no advantage gain. What if the Sun Be centre to the World, and other Stars, By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds ? Their wandering course, now high, now low,
then hid,
Progressive, retrograde, or standing still, In six thou seest ; and what if, seventh to
these, The planet Earth, so steadfast though she
seem,
Insensibly three different motions move? 130 Which else to several spheres thou must
ascribe,
Moved contrary with thwart obliquities, Or save the Sun his labour, and that swift Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed,
��Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of Day and Night; which needs not thy
belief,
If Earth, industrious of herself, fetch Day, Travelling east, and with her part averse From the Sun's beam meet Night, her
other part
Still luminous by bis ray. What if that light, 140
Sent from her through the wide transpicu- ous air,
To the terrestrial Moon be as a star, Enlightening her by day, as she by night This Earth reciprocal, if land be there, Fields and inhabitants ? Her spots thou
seest As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain
produce
Fruits in her softened soil, for some to eat Allotted there; and other Suns, perhaps, With their attendant Moons, thou wilt de- scry,
Communicating male and female light 150 Which two great sexes animate the World, Stored in each Orb perhaps with some that
live.
For such vast room in Nature unpossessed By living soul, desert and desolate, Only to shine, yet scarce to con'tribute Each Orb a glimpse of light, conveyed so
far
Down to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. But whether thus these things, or whether
not
Whether the Sun, predominant in hea- ven, 160 Rise on the Earth, or Earth rise on the Sun; He from the east his flaming road begin, Or she from west her silent course advance With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps On her soft axle, while she paces even, And bears thee soft with the smooth air
along
Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid: Leave them to God above; him serve and
fear.
Of other creatures as him pleases best, Wherever placed, let him dispose; joy thou 170
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise And thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too
high
To know what passes there. Be lowly wise;
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