Page:Aratus The Phenomena and Diosemeia.pdf/42

34 These diamond orbs their various circles trace, And run incessantly their daily race. Round a fix’d axis roll the starry skies: Earth, even balanc'd, in the centre lies. One pole far south is hid from mortal eye, One o'er our northern ocean rises high:

Round this, with head to head reverse, And back to back, pursue their endless course. With mortals once they dwelt; if truth belong To old tradition, and the Poet's song. When saved by craft from Saturn's bloody hand Jove's mother bare him to the Cretan strand, There and  fair Foster'd the babe with all a mother's care. The Corybantes beat their cymbals near, Deafening his cries to Saturn's watchful ear. Grateful his foster-dames, the Poets say, Jove plac'd in heaven to run their glorious way. Pleasing to sight is 's bright team, And Grecian sailors hail her guiding beam, When toss'd by adverse winds and tempest black Mid wintry seas their dubious course they track. But hardier sons of Tyre, who love to brave The unknown monsters of th’ Atlantic wave, By 's surer guidance steer, And safe return to wife and children dear.