Poetry > Course of time

THE COURSE OF TIME
BOOK II.
This said, he waked the golden harp, and thus,
While on him inspiration breathed, began.
As from yon everlasting hills that gird
Heaven northward, I thy course espied, I judge
Thou from the Arctic regions came ? Perhaps
Thou noticed on thy way a little orb,
Attended by one moon, her lamp by night,
With her fair sisterhood of planets seven,
Bevolving round their central sun ; she third
In place, in magnitude the fourth. That orb,
New made, new named, inhabited anew—
Though whiles we sons of Adam visit still
Our native place, not changed so far but we
Can trace our ancient walks, the scenery
Of childhood, youth, and prime, and hoary age,
But scenery most of suffering and woe—