LV.

What rapture !—what magnificence !—how grand
Are these fair suns, that in their singleness
Of glory shine, with only one bright teint
Of those that in our rainbow's varied dyes
In melting softness blend their beams of love
To generate more beauty, and bestride
The admiring world with its sweet arch of peace,
When on the weeping cloud the sun doth gleam,
And kiss the falling tears until they smile,
Like sorrow meeting unexpected joy.

LVI.

And now, behold, our near approach to one-
The brightest orb of all this splendid group!
It seems envelop'd in an atmosphere
Of light ineffable! As we approach,
That light resolves itself into a ring
Surrounding the bright ball that centres there.
Nearer approach now shows us fainter rings,
That, like th' expanding waves upon a lake,
Spread wider, till in distance they are lost.

LVII.

So in our own small system we may trace,
At least, in one far globe, some similarity,
Where the centrifugal revolving force
Throws off its rings. But what disparity
In magnitude to this self 'lumin'd source,
Which well may span three times our sun's diametry.

What hinders to explore this giant sphere?
May we not venture, Byron, to land here?

LVIII.

Then be it as thou wilt-thou art my guide:
On th' outer confines of this splendid disc
Of never-dying light, let us behold,

E'en as thou say'st, the many worlds that roll
Around the bright forbidden Paradise

(At least, to us forbidden, who, though here,
Cannot be naturaliz'd). As we recede
In parallel direction to the plane

Of these vast rings of white transparent light,
Behold! their form is now elliptical;

And here, descending swiftly, comes a globe
Like our own Mercury, so near our post
That we may well beware of his approach.

LIX.

So!-we have 'scap'd the planet's rough contact; But, through his atmosphere, the moment's rush May, to his people, like the meteor,

Be visible. Already far below,

It lessens to the sight, and, like our moon,
Or rather Venus, in her farewell gleam,
Increases the bright half that shone before
To the more gibbous form. Retiring still,
The light condens'd, shows like a brilliant star,
But, gradually lost behind the blaze

Of his refulgent parent, no more shines.

LX.

Retire we to the more remote domains
Of this wide system, which to us appears
A giant in the Heav'ns. And yonder rolls
Another orb, more sober than the first,
But yet a swift one; stretching far her path
Beyond our station, seems a brighter moon

Than our own Dian, the fair queen of night.
Another, and another we descry,

Though far away, yet beaming, radiant stars;
The outermost a triple glory shows,

Like knight, in splendid panoply array'd,
With his attendant pages of young growth.

LXI.

Now, though we may not visit this bright orb
More closely, we, at least, may seek to know
The habitants, and nature of those globes
That roll at humbler distance round their sire,
Who, though diminishing as we withdraw,
Still shows a disc magnificently great
And glorious, far beyond our own day star,
To which we must, ere long, make swift return.

LXII.

Farewell! resplendent heav'n of heav'ns! farewell,
Till mortal nature's debt is paid; and then
Th' unfettered spirit, leaving its frail clay,
May be permitted (whisp'ring Hope doth tell)
Through thy bright regions freely to career;
And, in communion sweet, may share the joy
Of the blest beings that inhabit thee,
And "farewell" no more break upon our ear,
Like the distressful billow o'er a wreck.

LXIII.

Turning our course from that pure source of light, Let us pursue our solitary way;

Comparatively dark, our humbled flight

From that most gorgeous-most divine display Of heav'nly power! where th' enraptur'd sight, Fainting in ecstacy, sustains the ray

No longer, but with splendour's charms opprest,
The weary, o'erfraught spirit sinks to rest.

LXIV.

Thy nature, Byron, freed from earth's alloy,
May well endure the glory here display'd;
But canst thou wonder that the mortal sense
Should prove too weak for such bright scenes as these?
Absorb'd awhile in slumber's deep repose,

Methought we yet were gliding smoothly on
To greater distance from those brilliant gems
Of heav'nly lustre, which again I see
On either hand, of beauteous teint intense;
Above-below-in front-and far behind,
The brilliant white orb we so late have left!

LXV.

At more convenient distance we now view
Their several hues of glory yet unknown.
And here, behold! not self illuminate,
Approaches one of the great globes that roll
In ceaseless orbit round that white-rob'd heav'n
Which we may not explore. But here, at least,
A world is, so far, to our nature 'kin,
That unrestricted we may boldly claim
To rest awhile, as weary stranger guests.

LXVI.

Softly descending through the perfum'd air
That clothes this glorious ball, the wide-spread fields

Seem fast approaching, and the radiant clouds

Partly conceal the surface from our sight,

Which yet can penetrate enough to scan

LXVII.

The varied landscape's richly verdant glow,
Where hill and dale, thick forest, and fair glebe,
Succeed in beauteous order, and the streams,

Like silver veins, pervade the fertile scene.
What happier spot than this for our research?
Descend we on yon mountain's flow'ry crest,
Which seems in love to kiss the azure sky,'

And thence contemplate what we more would know.

LXVIII.

Here what new wonders meet the astonish'd gaze!
These triple and quintuple systems shine

Alternately upon the happy worlds

That roll around in one eternal day.2

"New 'lighted on a heav'n kissing hill.”—Hamlet, Act iii, sc. 4.

2 This is no poetical fiction; the binary systems are very numerous in the heavens. Above 600 pairs of stars are known to revolve within each other's attraction. Some of these are white pairs, of equal or different intensity; others are white, with a blue, yellow, red, or green companion. Struve gives the following lists:

Single stars of a red colour as deep as blood are common; but no single star of a blue, green, or violet colour, has yet been found, though they occur in the binary and tertiary systems. There are also quadruple and quintuple combinations, in which the stars composing them are of different colours. See Milner's "Gallery of Nature, p. 177.

Sir John Herschel remarks "It may be more easily suggested in words than conceived, what variety of illumination two suns-a red and a green, or a yellow and a blue one-must afford to a planet circulating about either; and what charming contrasts and grateful vicissitudes-a red day and a green one, for instance, alternating with a white one and with darkness-might arise from the presence or absence of one or other, or both above the horizon." A quintuple system is supposed in the poem, with the planet revolving round the white sun, which is here the principal and much the largest. The beautiful phenomena which must result from such a combination, to a planet thus revolving, at different periods of its revolution, when one or more of the coloured suns are near a conjunction or opposition with, or to, the white one, can scarcely be conceived. One, two, or three of the coloured suns might be above the horizon, at different altitudes, either