These diamond orbs their various circles trace,
And run incessantly their daily race.
Round a fix’d axis roll the starry skies: 20
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 The Bears, 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, 30
There Helice and Cynosyra 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 Helice'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. 40
But hardier sons of Tyre, who love to brave
The unknown monsters of th’ Atlantic wave,
By Cynosyra's surer guidance steer,
And safe return to wife and children dear.
