Onward they traced the wide and lonesome main,
Where changeful Proteus leads his scaly train;
The dancing vanes before the zephyrs flow'd,
And their bold keels the trackless ocean plow'd;
Unplow'd before, the green-tinged billows rose,
And curl'd and whiten'd round the nodding prows.
When Jove, the God who with a thought controls
The raging seas, and balances the poles,
From heav'n beheld, and will'd, in sov'reign state,
To fix the Eastern World's depending fate:
Swift at his nod th' Olympian herald flies,
And calls th' immortal senate of the skies;
Where, from the sov'reign throne of earth and heav'n,
Th' immutable decrees of fate are given.
Instant the regents of the spheres of light,
And those who rule the paler orbs of night,
With those, the gods whose delegated sway
The burning south and frozen north obey;
And they whose empires see the day-star rise,
And evening Phoebus leave the western skies,
All instant pour'd along the milky road,
Heaven's crystal pavements glittering as they trod:
And now, obedient to the dread command,
Before their awful Lord in order stand.
Sublime and dreadful on his regal throne,
That glow'd with stars, and bright as lightning shone,
Th'
