“Deep in cool vales, beneath the Hesperian sky, For the Sun’s fiery steeds the pastures lie. Ambrosia there they eat, and thence they gain New vigour, and their daily toils sustain. While thus on heavenly food the coursers fed, And Night around her gloomy empire spread, The god assumed the mother’s shape and air, And pass’d unheeded to his darling fair. Close by a lamp, with maids encompass’d round, The royal spinster full employ’d he found: Then cried, ‘Awhile from work, my daughter, rest,’ And, like a mother, scarce her lips he press’d. ‘Servants retire; nor secrets dare to hear, Entrusted only to a daughter’s ear.’ They swift obey’d; not one, suspicious, thought The secret which their mistress would be taught. Then he: ‘Since now no witnesses are near, Behold the god who guides the various year! The world’s vast eye, of light the source serene, Who all things sees, by whom are all things seen. Believe me, nymph (for I the truth have show’d), Thy charms have power to charm so great a god.’ Confused, she heard him his soft passion tell, And on the floor, untwirl’d, the spindle fell: