Homer with mellifluous tongue
Phœbus' glorious light hath sung,
Hymning high his praise;
Yet his feeble rays
Ocean's hollows may not brighten,
Nor earth's central gloom enlighten.
But the might of Him, who skilled
This great universe to build,
Is not thus confined;
Not earth's solid rind,
Nor night's blackest canopy,
Baffle His all-seeing eye.
All that is, hath been, shall be,
In one glance's compass, He
Limitless descries;
And, save His, no eyes
All the world survey — no, none!
Him, then, truly name the Sun.
Monadnock Valley Press > Boethius > The Consolation of Philosophy