When the seven daughters of the Libyan king
Rise in the heavens, then begin to mow;
And when they hide their heads, then plough the ground.
And Aratus says—
Their size is small, their light but moderate,
Yet are they famous over all the world;
At early dawn and late at eve they roll,
Jove regulating all their tranquil motions;
He has ordain'd them to give signs to men,
When winter, and when summer too begins,—
What is the time for ploughing, what for sowing.
And accordingly it is with great appropriateness that the poet has represented the Pleiades, who indicate the time of the generation and approach to perfection of the fruits of the earth, as forming parts of the ornaments of the cup of that wise prince Nestor. For this vessel was intended to contain any kind of food, whether solid or liquid; on which account he also says that the turtle-doves bring ambrosia to Jupiter:—
No bird of air, nor dove of trembling wing,
That bears ambrosia to th' ethereal king,
But shuns these rocks.
For we must not think here that it is really the birds called turtle-doves which bring ambrosia to Jupiter, which is the opinion of many; for that were inconsistent with the majesty of Jupiter; but the daughters of Atlas, turned into the constellation of Pleiades or doves. For it is natural enough that they who indicate the appropriate seasons to the human race should also bring ambrosia to Jupiter, on which account also he distinguishes between them and other birds, saying—
No bird of air, nor dove of trembling wing;
and that he considers the Pleiades as the most famous of all fixed stars is plain, from his having placed them in the first rank when giving a list of other constellations:—
There earth, there heaven, there ocean he design'd,—
Th' unwearied sun, the moon completely round,—
The starry lights, that heaven's high convex crown'd,—
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern Team,
And great Orion's more refulgent beam;
To which, around the axle of the sky,
The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye;
Still shines exalted on th' ethereal plain,
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main,—
The Bear, whom trusting rustics call the Wain.
