The Sky is an immortal Tent built by the Sons of Los,
And every Space that a Man views around his dwelling-place,
Standing on his own roof, or in his garden on a mount
Of twenty-five cubits in height, such space is his Universe;
And on its verge the Sun rises & sets, the Clouds bow
To meet the flat Earth & the Sea in such an orderd Space,
The Starry heavens reach no further but here bend and set
On all sides & the two Poles turn on their valves of gold.
And if he move his dwelling-place, his heavens also move
Wher'eer he goes & all his neighbourhood bewail his loss.
Such are the Spaces called Earth & such its dimension.
As to that false appearance which appears to the reasoner,
As of a Globe rolling thro Voidness, it is a delusion of Ulro.
The Microscope knows not of this nor the Telescope; they alter
The ratio of the Spectator's Organs but leave Objects untouch'd.
For every Space larger than a red Globule of Man's blood
Is visionary, and is created by the Hammer of Los.
And every Space smaller than a Globule of Mans blood opens
Into Eternity of which this vegetable Earth is but a shadow.
The red Globule is the unwearied Sun by Los created
To measure Time and Space to mortal Men every morning.
Bowlahoola & Allamanda are placed on each side
Of that Pulsation & that Globule, terrible their power.