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letra de o whither shall my troubled muse incline - george dyson

oh, whither shall my troubled muse encline?
if not the glorious scaffolde of the skies
nor highest heaven’s resplendent hierarchies
where heav’nly soldiours in pure armor shine;
nor ayer which thy sweete spirite doth refine
nor earth thy precious blood’s unworthy prise
nor seas which, when thou list, ebbe and arise;
nor any creature, profane or divine
can blaze the flourish of thy tearmelesse praise;
surreaching farre, by manifold large sp-ce
all divine fabricke of thy sacred hands;

weigh me the fire; or, canst thou find
a way to measure out the wind;
distinguish all the floods that are
mixt in the watrie theater;
and tast thou them as saltlesse there
as in their channell first they were;
tell me the people that do keep
within the kingdomes of the deep;
or fetch me back that cloude againe
beshiver’d into seeds of raine;
tell me the motes, dust, sands, and speares
of corn, when summer shakes his eares;
shew me [that]1 world of starres, and whence
they noiselesse spill their influence;
this if thou canst, then shew me him
that rides the glorious cherubim
see! through the heavenly arch
with silent stately march
the starry ranks for ever sweep;
in graduate scale of might
they all are sons of light
and all their times and orders keep

o glorious, countless host
which shall i praise the most
your l-strous groups, or course exact ?
ye on your way sublime
defy confusing time
your light to dim, your path distract

o thou unswerving will
the unveiled heavens still
show thee glorious, good, and wise

the lord descended from above
and bow’d the heavens high
and underneath his feet he cast
the darkness of the sky

on cherubim and seraphim
full royally he rode
and on the wings of mighty winds
came flying all abroad

- george dyson

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