The western wind expect; and drenching rain,
If on the fourth her horns direct remain.
If to the earth her upper horn she bend,
Cold Boreas from the north his blast will send.
If upward she extend it to the sky,
Loud Notus with his blustering gale is nigh.
When the fourth day around her orb is spread
A circling ring of deep and murky red,
Soon from his cave the god of storms will rise,
Dashing with foamy wave the lowering skies. 80
And when fair Cynthia her full orb displays,
Or when unveil'd to sight are half her rays,
Then mark the various hues that paint her face,
And thus the fickle weather's changes trace.
If smile her pearly face benign and fair,
Calm and serene will breathe the balmy air;
If with deep blush her maiden cheek be red,
Then boisterous wind the cautious sailors dread;
If sullen blackness hang upon her brow,
From clouds as black will rainy torrents flow. 90
Not through the month their power these signs extend,
But all their influence with the quarter end.
A Halo oft fair Cynthia's face surrounds
With single, double, or with triple bounds.
If with one ring, and broken it appear,
Sailors, beware—the driving gale is near.
