The Consolation of Philosophy · 71 of 78

Book V, Song II: The True Sun

Homer with mellifluous tongue Phœbus' glorious light hath sung, Hymning high his praise; Yet his feeble rays Ocean's hollows may not brighten, Nor earth's central gloom enlighten.

But the might of Him, who skilled This great universe to build, Is not thus confined; Not earth's solid rind, Nor night's blackest canopy, Baffle His all-seeing eye.

All that is, hath been, shall be, In one glance's compass, He Limitless descries; And, save His, no eyes All the world survey—no, none! Him, then, truly name the Sun.