METRUM V.
O Thou great builder of this starry frame, Who fix'd in Thy eternal throne doth tame The rapid spheres, and lest they jar Hast giv'n a law to ev'ry star. Thou art the cause that now the moon With fall orb dulls the stars, and soon Again grows dark, her light being done, The nearer still she's to the sun. Thou in the early hours of night Mak'st the cool evening-star shine bright, And at sun-rising--'cause the least-- Look pale and sleepy in the east. Thou, when the leaves in winter stray, Appoint'st the sun a shorter way, And in the pleasant summer light, With nimble hours dost wing the night. Thy hand the various year quite through Discreetly tempers, that what now The north-wind tears from ev'ry tree In spring again restor'd we see. Then what the winter stars between The furrows in mere seed have seen, The dog-star since--grown up and born-- Hath burnt in stately, full-ear'd corn. Thus by creation's law controll'd All things their proper stations hold, Observing--as Thou didst intend-- Why they were made, and for what end. Only human actions Thou Hast no care of, but to the flow And ebb of Fortune leav'st them all. Hence th' innocent endures that thrall Due to the wicked; whilst alone They sit possessors of his throne. The just are kill'd, and virtue lies Buried in obscurities; And--which of all things is most sad-- The good man suffers by the bad. No perjuries, nor damn'd pretence Colour'd with holy, lying sense Can them annoy, but when they mind To try their force, which most men find, They from the highest sway of things Can pull down great and pious kings. O then at length, thus loosely hurl'd, Look on this miserable world, Whoe'er Thou art, that from above Dost in such order all things move! And let not man--of divine art Not the least, nor vilest part-- By casual evils thus bandied, be The sport of Fate's obliquity. But with that faith Thou guid'st the heaven Settle this earth, and make them even.