On which was written, not in words,
But hieroglyphic mute of birds,
Many rare pithy saws concerning
The worth of astrologic learning.
From top of this there hung a rope,
To which he fasten'd telescope,
The spectacles with which the stars
He reads in smallest characters.

It happen'd as a boy, one night,
Did fly his tarsel of a kite,

The strangest long-wing'd hawk that flies,
That, like a bird of paradise,

Or herald's martlet, has no legs,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;
His train was six yards long, milk-white,
At th' end of which there hung a light,
Inclos'd in lanthorn made of paper,
That far off like a star did appear.
This Sidrophel by chance espy'd,
And with amazement staring wide,
Bless us ! quoth he, what dreadful wonder
Is that appears in heaven yonder?

A comet, and without a beard!
Or star that ne'er before appear"ð!
I'm certain 'tis not in the scrow

Dressé par lui, trouvé par Fisque, (145)
Sur lequel était, non en mots,
Mais hiéroglyphiques oiseaux,
Quelque belle louange antique
De la science astrologique.
Du haut une corde pendait
Où son télescope il fixait,
Instrument qui sert de lunettes
Pour lire étoiles et planètes.

Il advint qu'un soir un enfant
Faisait voler un cerf-volant,
Oiseau très-grand, de forme plate,
Et comme le martlet, sans patte, (146)
Ou comme oiseau de paradis,

Qui ne fait point d'œufs ni petits;
Sa queue au corps assortissante
Etait de blancheur éclatante,
Et six aunes au moins avait,
Au bout de laquelle pendait
Lanterne de papier ou toile,
Qui de loin semblait une étoile.
Sidrophel ayant aperçu

Dans le ciel cet astre inconnu,
Tout surpris, se tint ce langage.
Bon dieu ! que vois-je! quel présage
Vient de paraître dans les cieux!
Une comète sans cheveux,

Un astre qui, sur ma parole,

Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl,
With which, like Indian plantations,

The learned stock the constellations;

Nor those that drawn for signs have been,
To th' houses where the planets inn.
It must be supernatural,

Unless it be the cannon-ball

That, shot i' th' air point-blank upright,
Was borne to that prodigious height,
That learn'd philosophers maintain,
It ne'er came backwards down again,
But in the airy region yet

Hangs like the body of Mahomet:
For if it be above the shade

That by the earth's round bulk is made,
'Tis probable it may from far
Appear no bullet, but a star.

This said, he to his engine flew, Plac'd near at hand, in open view, And rais'd it till it levell'd right Against the glow-worm tail of kite;

9

LYON

D