Du Bartas, His Divine Weeks and Works (excerpt)

...
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    But ev'n as many (or more) quarrels cumber
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   Th' old heathen schools about the heavens' number.
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   One holds but one; making the world's eyes shine
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   Through the thin-thickness of that chrystal line,
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   (As through the ocean's clear and liquid flood
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   The slippery fishes up and down do scud).
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   Another, judging certain by his eye,
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   And, seeing sev'n bright lamps mov'd diversely,
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   Turn this and that way: and, on th' other side,
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   That all the rest of the heav'ns' twinkling pride
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   Keep all one course; ingeniously, he varies
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   The heav'ns' rich building into eight round stories.
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   Others, amid the starriest orb, perceiving
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   A triple cadence, and withal conceiving
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   That but one natural course one body goes,
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   Count nine, some ten; not numb'ring yet (with those)
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   Th' empyreal palace, where th' eternal treasures
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   Of nectar flow, where everlasting pleasures
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   Are heaped-up, where an immortal May
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   In blissful beauties flourisheth for ay,
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   Where life still lives, where God his sises holds
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   Environ'd round with seraphins and souls
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   Bought with his precious blood, whose glorious flight
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   Erst mounted earth above the heavens bright.
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   Nor shall my faint and humble Muse presume
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   So high a song and subject to assume.
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THE THIRD DAY OF THE FIRST WEEK (excerpts)
Rep. Poetry:  2RP.1.253.