Classic Poem

When Jove a heav'n of small glass did behold,
He smil'd, and to the Gods these words he told.
Comes then the power of mans Art to this?
In a fraile Orbe my work new acted is.
The poles decrees, the fate of things: God's laws
Down by his Art old Archimedes draws
Spirits inclos'd the sev'ral Stars attend,
And orderly the living work they bend.
A feigned Zodiac measures out the year,
Ev'ry new month a false Moon doth appear.
And now bold industry is proud, it can
Wheel round its world , and rule the Stars by man.
Why at Salmoneus thunder do I stand?
Nature is rivall'd by a single hand .