Round he surveys—and well might, where he stood,
So high above the circling canopy
Of Night's extended shade—from eastern point
Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears
Andromeda far off Atlantic seas,
Beyond the horizon; then from pole to pole560
He views in breadth, and, without longer pause,
Down right into the World's first region throws
His flight precipitant, and winds with ease
Through the pure marble air his oblique way
Amongst innumerable stars, that shone
Stars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds,
Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles,
Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,
Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales,
Thrice-happy isles; but who dwelt happy there570
He stayed not to inquire. Above them all
The golden sun, in splendor likest Heaven,
Allured his eye. Thither his course he bends,
Through the calm firmament—but up or down.
By center or eccentric, hard to tell,
Or longitude—where the great luminary,
Aloof the vulgar constellations thick,
That from his lordly eye keep distance due,
Dispenses light from far. They, as they move
Their starry dance in numbers that compute580
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100
PARADISE LOST.
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