252, 253:—
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Whilst round the chariot’s way
Innumerable systems rolled.
The plurality of worlds,—the indefinite immensity of the universe, is a
most awful subject of contemplation. He who rightly feels its mystery
and grandeur is in no danger of seduction from the falsehoods of
religious systems, or of deifying the principle of the universe. It is
impossible to believe that the Spirit that pervades this infinite
machine begat a son upon the body of a Jewish woman; or is angered at
the consequences of that necessity, which is a synonym of itself. All
that miserable tale of the Devil, and Eve, and an Intercessor, with the
childish mummeries of the God of the Jews, is irreconcilable with the
knowledge of the stars. The works of His fingers have borne witness
against Him.
The nearest of the fixed stars is inconceivably distant from the earth,
and they are probably proportionably distant from each other. By a
calculation of the velocity of light, Sirius is supposed to be at least
54,224,000,000,000 miles from the earth. (See Nicholson’s
“Encyclopedia”, article Light.) That which appears only like a thin and
silvery cloud streaking the heaven is in effect composed of innumerable
clusters of suns, each shining with its own light, and illuminating
numbers of planets that revolve around them. Millions and millions of
suns are ranged around us, all attended by innumerable worlds, yet calm,
regular, and harmonious, all keeping the paths of immutable necessity.