Faireft of ftars, laft in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morz
With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy fphere,
While day arifes, that fweet hour of prime.
Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge Him thy greater, found his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou fall.
Moon, that now meet'ft the orient fun, now fly'st
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In myftic dance, not without fong, refound
His praife, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix
And nourish all things; let your ceafelefs change
Vary to our great Maker ftill new praise.
Ye Mifts and Exhalations that now rife
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the fun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rife!
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling fhowers,
Rifing or falling ftill advance his praife.
His praife, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe foft or loud, and wave your tops, ye Pines,
With every plant, in fign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs! warbling tune his praise.
Join voices, all ye living Souls; ye Birds,