What now, dear reader, shall we make out of our telescope? Shall we make a Mercury's magic-wand to cross the liquid ether with, and, like Lucian,[1] lead a colony to the uninhabited evening star, allured by the sweetness of the place? or shall we make it a Cupid's arrow, which, entering by our eyes, has pierced our inmost mind, and fired us with a love of Venus? For what language is too strong for the marvellous beauty of this orb, if, having no light of its own, it can attain simply by the borrowed light of the sun to such splendour, as Jupiter has not, nor the moon, though enjoying a proximity to the sun as close as Venus; for if the moon's light be compared with the light of Venus, it will be seen to be certainly greater on account of the apparent magnitude of the moon, but, in comparison with the light of Venus, dull, dead, and leaden, O truly golden Venus! Will any one doubt any more that the whole orb of Venus is wrought most smoothly out of pure unalloyed gold, since its surface, when only placed in the sunlight, reflects a splendour so intense! And here let me add my experiments about the alteration of the light of Venus on blinking the eye, which I have examined in the part of my Astronomy which
- ↑ Lucian, Ver. Hist. i. 12.
