Thus did the god the unwary youth advise; But he still longs to travel through the skies; When the fond father (for in vain he pleads) At length to the Vulcanian chariot leads. A golden axle did the work uphold, Gold was the beam, the wheels were orb’d with gold; The spokes in rows of silver pleased the sight; The seat with parti-colour’d gems was bright: Apollo shined amid the glare of light. The youth with secret joy the work surveys, When now the moon disclosed her purple rays: The stars were fled, for Lucifer had chased The stars away, and fled himself at last. Soon as the father saw the rosy morn, And the moon shining with a blunter horn, He bid the nimble Hours, without delay, Bring forth the steeds: the nimble Hours obey. From their full racks the generous steeds retire, Dropping ambrosial foams, and snorting fire. Still anxious for his son, the god of day, To make him proof against the burning ray, His temples with celestial ointment wet, Of sovereign virtue, to repel the heat; Then fix’d the beamy circle on his head,