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4
PETER BELL.
Prologue.
The towns in Saturn are ill-built,
But proud let him be who has seen them;
The Pleiads, that appear to kiss
Each other in the vast abyss,
With joy I sail between them!
Swift Mercury resounds with mirth,
Great Jove is full of stately bowers;
But these, and all that they contain,
What are they to that tiny grain,
That darling speck of ours!
Then back to Earth, the dear green Earth;
Whole ages if I here should roam,
The world for my remarks and me
Would not a whit the better be;
I've left my heart at home.
