“When I behold this goodly frame, this world, Of heaven and earth consisting, and compute Their magnitudes; this earth, a spot, a grain, An atom, with the firmament compared And all her numbered stars, that seem to roll Spaces incomprehensible (for such Their distance argues, and their swift return Diurnal), merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot, One day and night; in all their vast survey Useless besides; reasoning I oft admire, How Nature, wise and frugal, could commit Such disproportions, with superfluous hand So many nobler bodies to create, Greater so manifold, to this one use, For aught appears, and on their orbs impose Such restless revolution day by day Repeated; while the sedentary earth, That better might with far less compass mov Served by more noble than herself, attains Her end without least motion, and receives, As tribute, such a sumless journey brought Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light⁠— Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails.”