With what a perfect world-revolving power
Were first th' unwieldy planets launch'd along
Th' illimitable void! Thus to remain,
Amid the flux of many thousand years,
That oft has swept the busy race of men,
And all their labour'd monuments away,
Unresting, changless, matchless, in their course;
To night and day, with the delightful round
Of  faithful; not excentric once:
So pois'd, and perfect is the vast machine.