No More Learning

O, Delian king, whose light-producing eye views all within, and all beneath the sky:
Whose locks are gold, whose oracles are sure, who, omens good reveal'st, and precepts pure:
Hear me entreating for the human kind, hear, and be present with           mind;
For thou survey'st this boundless æther all, and ev'ry part of this terrestrial ball
Abundant, blessed; and thy piercing sight, extends beneath the gloomy, silent night;
Beyond the darkness, starry-ey'd, profound, the stable roots, deep fix'd by thee are found.