The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.

These lines come from William Cowper’s long blank-verse poem *The Task* (1785), a work that moves conversationally from domestic scenes into reflections on nature, society, and religion. In the poem Cowper repeatedly uses the variety of the natural world—landscapes, seasons, rural life—as evidence of providential design and as a corrective to human restlessness. The passage occurs amid his descriptive celebration of nature’s changing forms, where he frames “various” earth not as random abundance but as something fitted to human psychology: people are “desultory,” prone to distraction, and therefore delight in novelty.

Cowper suggests that nature’s diversity answers a specifically human trait: our wandering attention and appetite for change. The phrase “desultory man” is gently critical—human beings are fickle and easily diverted—yet the conclusion is unexpectedly generous: the world’s variety “might be indulged.” Read theologically, the lines imply a benevolent creator who accommodates human weakness by providing endless differences to observe and enjoy. Read psychologically, they capture an early Romantic sensitivity to how environment and perception interact: novelty is not merely a temptation but a legitimate pleasure, and the world is shaped (or at least experienced) as a succession of renewing scenes.