To solitary Pools and Lakes retires,
And loves the Waters as oppos'd to Fires.
Mean while Apollo in a gloomy Shade
(The native Lustre of his Brows decay'd)
Indulging Sorrow, sickens at the Sight
Of his own Sun-shine, and abhors the Light:
The hidden Griefs, that in his Bosom rise,
Sadden his Looks, and over-cast his Eyes,
As when some dusky Orb obstructs his Ray,
And sullies in a Dim Eclipse the Day.
Now secretly with inward Griefs he pin'd,
Now warm Resentments to his Griefs he join'd,
And now renounc'd his Office to Mankind.
"E'er since the Birth of Time, said he, I've born
"A long ungrateful Toil without return;
"Let now some other manage, if he dare,
"The fiery Steeds; and mount the burning Carr;
"Or, if none else, let Jove his Fortune try,
"And learn to lay his murd'ring Thunder by;
"Then will he own, perhaps, but own too late,
"My Son deserv'd not so severe a Fate.
The Gods stand round him, as he Mourns, and Pray
He would resume the Conduct of the Day,
Nor let the World be lost in endless Night:
Jove too himself, descending from his Height,
Excuses what had happen'd, and intreats,
Majestically mixing Pray'rs and Threats.
Prevail'd upon at length, again he took
The harness'd Steeds, that still with Horror shook,
And Plies 'em with the Lash, and Whips 'em on,
And as he Whips, upbraids 'em with his Son.
The Story of Calisto.
The Day was settled in its Course; and Jove
Walk'd the wide Circuit of the Heav'ns above,
