Beneath th' uplifted arm, and near the side
Of fair Andromeda.

⁠Her anxious eyes
Gleam bright with hope: beneath her Perseus flies,
Her brave deliverer—mighty son of Jove—
His giant strides the blue vault climb, and move
A cloud of dust in heaven: his falchion bare
Reaches his honour’d step-dame's golden chair.

⁠Near his left knee the Pleiads next are roll'd,
Like seven pure brilliants set in ring of gold. 260
Though each one small, their splendour all combine
To form one gem, and gloriously they shine.
Their number seven, though some men fondly say,
And Poets feign, that one has pass'd away.
Alcyone—Celœno—Merope—
Electra—Taygeta—and Sterope—
With Maia—honour’d sisterhood—by Jove
To rule the seasons plac’d in heaven above.
Men mark them, rising with the solar ray,
The harbingers of summer's brighter day—
Men mark them, rising with Sol's setting light,
Forerunners of the winter's gloomy night.
They guide the ploughman to the mellow land—
The sower casts his seed at their command. 270